woven thought descends

over dark water flowing

seeping

bodies bent low by the weight of a night sky

seething

the forest alive

roots against flesh

soil that has not been dry for millennia

between fingers

pressing as though to disappear beneath

sensation drawn into a mind and made incarnate

alive with a fragile grasp, already decaying

burning away the excess

the next in line to leap into the fire

goes with a prayer on parted lips of

maybe this

this leap

have the stars anointed

dim light now over misted fields

as morning comes

rolling down from bone white peaks above

like thunder to wake the world

and set all in motion

and one now risen out of earth

breathes deeply of this fresh decay

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—

fall is in the air and I’m trying to get my hands on all the pumpkin flavored things that I can

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Photo by Tolga Ahmetler on Unsplash