every autumn i journey north

to the shore

to join the leaves’ last rebellion 

before they are no more—

gold, caramel, cardinal—

i watch the royal tree crowns fall

and

    tumble 

           and

               crumble

like burnt cinnamon

to the sea of cider,

beneath it all…

landing as 

skeleton souls forever suspended

in reverent reflections of a colorful heaven 

while floating down these analeptic,

antiquated waters.

these weary waves

wearing down the tired cliff face

of my being

split rock

breaking 

         and 

             taking

bits of me to death’s door

until i am

so much more.