Sunday, October 11, 2009

forlorn never looked so good


Autumn crunches
beneath my boots
and I pull at the cuffs
of my sweater
tuck fingers inside

I breathe in gasps
the gingery
scent of fall
lost in the lines
the curve of every bough

I choose to climb
the lookout
high and lonely
leave fears below
for some other day

I trample through
the bramble swarms
on an unremarkable slab
a concrete reminder
of brevity

And the deepest ember
glows with pleasure
at the crunch beneath boot
the inhalation of spicy-sweet
the happy-lonely view
the past-lives of this place

This is how I choose
to remember today

The day I turned
twenty-five

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