I don’t miss you, autumn
so much as the way it felt
when I knew that you were gone.
Back when my clarity of purpose
seemed so strong. Now it just clutches
keeps me from moving on.
I used to think it was me who bore your memory,
but could it be that memory
made me who I am?
The expectation in my smallest of demands
was you return
just as you were.
I longed to make sense of your perspective
how you said sadness takes the shape
of burning stars.
How you could feel a thing
so far from where we are?
A thousand years go by
and always they compelled to pass in static.
We thought that innocence
was something that could last.
Now when I walk around
I wear it as a mask.
So I won’t see, no one see me.
conjures sounds of a landscape, riparian in movement from the mystery of a foggy meadow, a woodland as a storm passes through, to the feelings provoked in the perspective from high hills and mountains Animal Laughter