Kati Fuchs
Fall is one of the most beautiful
seasons
for all sorts of good reasons
but
when you really stop to think-
there is a morbid link
between fall
and death’s imminent call.
The sickly cold of every breeze
Is what I’ve been told
Is fall’s final breath
as it becomes victim to a
cruel, concerning death.
Maybe that’s why
with this,
the unhinged world
is so hauntingly obsessed.
The trees pleading,
bleeding,
to desperately show
they’re never ready,
not meant,
to go,
to move past,
sunshine-filled moments
that were never to last.
Beauty stripped,
Fearing they’re ill-
equipped
for another wild, midwestern winter.
But
we make the most of what is left
pretending
there is no such thing as winter’s theft.
Embracing every slight and powerful breeze
Shifting our hearts and brains at ease,
Watching the leaves delicately flow
even when they’re reluctant to go,
green to gold to gone.
To the ground, they messily pile.
Providing us another reason to smile:
the satisfying crunch,
another unintentional punch,
to our beloved season
as the leaves
barely hang on,
but here’s a conclusion
I’ve subsequently drawn:
A continual breeze undulating
around
the release of the final leaf,
awaiting,
feeling
resistance decrease-
the point in which
we switch
from feeling this fallen breath
as a kiss of death.
It’s ok to let go-
especially when you know
none of it were to last,
just take a step past
and relax.
Feel your tension flee
After that you’ll see
this season return
After seasons of growth
but for now,
Be thankful
for each gentle breath.