expired.

fall is coming.

i smell her in the soil and
i catch her song in the rustling of
the morning leaves.

she is such a brave mother-fucker as
she releases the leaves that have expired and
asks no questions of what she
did wrong or why she
wasn’t enough to
keep them
alive.
​
as greens turn to crimson and
goldenrod, perhaps my heart will
turn from fire to embers and maybe
i will learn from sister autumn to
let go of you.