Feeling Autumnal

Discarded,
brown and rumpled,
slotted and sorted
by dewy blades of green,
soaking radiant arrival,
refugees cloister,
purposed to mother.

I feel the autumnal tide
wash me out of summer.
Humidity shudders.
Breezes brush backyard
lines of linen
where a child once played,
fading in light.

Mother calls me, too.


Recalling sweetness of youth and innocence lost to life of a fallen leaf.