What time of the year it was
The leaves are just now starting to change
From vibrant summer green to
Muted violets and browns
The temperature remains in the seventies and eighties
Climbing into the nineties some days,
Forcing me to wear shorts much longer than I wanted to
Even though the nights dip into the 40’s or 50’s.

I was able to make it all the way through the equinox
Creating new pieces
Writing bits of new poems
Feeling empowered and beyond your reach
While the birds kept serenading my days in the yard
Even though our garden is full of rusted plants
Collapsing on themselves in the need of a seasonal rest.
Pumpkins and haybales decorate my stoop,
Blending it into all the other homes in our subdivision,
Covering up the past with the promise of a modern farmhouse future.

I leaned into Halloween for the fun of it this year
Instead of the relief that it provides in allowing me to disguise
Every single bit of me, obscuring what I was with what I am now.
I almost got away with it, except the wind still smells like dust
And rotten leaves
Like the ones that decorate your grave,
Hiding you in the warm comfort of the earth
Away from the annual celebration of how I finally
Painfully
Fearfully
Broke away from you for the last time.

The good news is, it doesn’t seem like climate change
Is going to end any time soon.
I might make it all the way to November next year.