When the Leaves Wrinkle
every fall
when summer falls
and my grief arises once again
when the summer death hits harder
and disease is in the air
when my productivity and laughter fades
when golden hour starts becoming more pronounced
and the crisp late afternoon air more apparent
when smears across the condensation on the windows begin to feel like home
when the ohmmm in yoga lasts a little longer
when our days shorten
and 2:22 pm becomes less sweet
when coffee is a mug dink
and no longer an iced drink
when another five pounds doesn't matter
when the music gets slower, fuzzier, and downbeat
when our skies change colors slower, the leaves faster
when hibernation is near
and there are pumpkins at the store
when winter becomes a thing to plan for
when living for the purpose of living sounds less convincing
when summer ceases from everywhere but my camera roll
when apples taste right
and oranges lose their appeal
when the feelings begin to feel again
when the leaves turn to a crispy brown and wrinkle beneath my feet
I feel the air, the leaves, the chill… the warmth
I lean into it all
and then away from it again
I avoid, I play, I celebrate, I resent
it’s okay
because it okay to not always be ok
and live and love and laugh anyways
