Autumn Falls--A Poem

Autumn is undeniably my favorite time of year. The warm colors and comfy clothes, the crunch of leaves...the way it creeps in gradually so you don't really notice the change until it's too chilly to leave the house without that extra layer.

I. Love. Fall.  And also this poem:

Autumn Falls

We char filets wrapped with bacon

on hot coals one last time, and enjoy

some power over dead things to come.

Death pollutes the air, its fingers

curling around a honeybee, gripping

tighter, ending his drunken, lazy flight.

It exhales on maple leaves, wounding

their color and crisping their flesh

until they let go and drop to the ground,

protecting the seeds that lie below

and wait for spring.

One of my favorite photos from Russia.
A golden birch in front of the Christ the Savior Cathedral in Moscow.