Standing on the front porch, I can smell it . .
the smell of leaves burning !
I step outside
and
fall to the sidewalk of 1974 :
leaves are burning . .
somewhere
very close
wafting
hazing the neighborhood & the moon with presence
joy pours into me from fires expectation
and the rush of a kiss
life & love rustle with crisp forgiveness
14 feels like this ; tight & wild
organic & open
leaves are burning. . .
somewhere
very near
around the corner
in cornfields & cartwheels
catapulting innocence closer to the edge
twigs snap from the weight of
this story, this moment
caught in the tendrils of leaves smoke
rising
rising ....
to circle a moon lodged between the branches
of who I thought I was
and
who I have become
leaves burning me home ...
the smell of leaves burning !
I step outside
and
fall to the sidewalk of 1974 :
leaves are burning . .
somewhere
very close
wafting
hazing the neighborhood & the moon with presence
joy pours into me from fires expectation
and the rush of a kiss
life & love rustle with crisp forgiveness
14 feels like this ; tight & wild
organic & open
leaves are burning. . .
somewhere
very near
around the corner
in cornfields & cartwheels
catapulting innocence closer to the edge
twigs snap from the weight of
this story, this moment
caught in the tendrils of leaves smoke
rising
rising ....
to circle a moon lodged between the branches
of who I thought I was
and
who I have become
leaves burning me home ...
