10/15/2021

every evening
my feet carry me
up the hill
to the cemetery
to watch the sky

the changing
of the seasons
reminds me
how ephemeral
time is

for the moon
greets the sun
earlier
now that the leaves
are dying

there’s a comfort here
amongst the ghosts
of wheat fields
and the spirits
of past voices in the wind

how easy it is
to become lost
in the beauty
of star-crossed
lovers—

a crimson sky
a crescent moon
even the leaves
can’t help but dance
as they make their descent

letting go
to bare the trees
to prepare
for the newcomer
a blanket of white

when the seasons change
once more
and the moon
greets us
ever earlier.

is there anything
so romantic
as October?