Father Fall and Aunt Autumn, they say to me:
Today, let it be the first day of Fall
Perhaps not your first forward fall,
Taking your stumbling steps, steadily forward.
A wounded knee or a twisted ankle,
A fractured mind or a broken heart.
Take off your bandaid scarves
and show to me the open flesh.
Expose your branching nerves
and your tree trunk bones.
numb with alcohol and your smokey cigarettes
or cleanse with water and your simple breath
Either way, life is a piece of cake
and a pain-filled pie.
Leaves are changing, skin is scabbing
It’ll flake like crust baked yams
and bristle like brittle bark
Surface scars sing sacred sounds
It’ll smooth like sanded wood
and wrinkle like wising willows
I am your Father Fall
and I catch you down below
Piled high with lesson and leaves
I am your Autumn Aunt
and I ask you always again
Is Autumn awful
or leaving you in complete and utter awe?