Fall Stands.

The cold drags itself in. I woke up in a white tomb.
Pulled the blanket and fell into the woods.
Outside, you know, it sounds and smells like so much passed time.
Beautiful and sad.
Faces on the trees look crooked. Lined up like a march to the stake.
I have that ache in my chest. Held under too long.
So I come up to breathe out the dream.
For fear or love, I do not feel alone, wherever I go.
Fall stands.