The cracked leaves—
Bristles bringing back rattled breaths, darkened with despair
Hark! Who forgoes, who forgot, who coughs the foreign autumn air?
Reigning like strawmen who make way for snowmen
Men who make way for women; men who make way for omen
“Honey, your name is crisp against my lips. Sharp chatter against my teeth.”
—crunching under my feet
A poem I recently wrote while missing Autumn in New England. Published Friday October 13, 2023.