The days shorten and wilt softly around us, the foliage

a bruised and browning sunset. I’ve done my best.

Our garden shivers and cowers at its foundation: sparse

leaf and decay contrast the once sentient abundant. We harvest

the arthritic bark, dull-eyed milkweed and daisy, the furrowed flesh of stem

and petal, pass over the tombstone of fruit, this open wound

of rust and rot and washed silver. The once bright

lives of rose and late summer skin deserve an homage. Let us go

inside. We fortify, we nail long planks of wood over the windows

and doors, we light our fires, we lean into the reassurance

of each other. Winter comes as an inhale: I welcome the frost that climbs

the rungs of my spine. Throw yourself in my way, stop

this never ending motion of reaching and pulling and climbing.

Come in close.

Weigh down my breath and bone.

The days shorten and wilt softly around us, the foliage a bruised and browning sunset. I’ve done my best. Our garden shivers and cowers at its foundation: sparse leaf and decay contrast the once sentient abundant. We harvest the arthritic bark, dull-eyed milkweed and daisy, the furrowed flesh of stem and petal, pass over the tombstone of fruit, this open wound of rust and rot and washed silver. The once bright lives of rose and late summer skin deserve an homage. Let us go inside. We fortify, we nail long planks of wood over the windows and doors, we light our fires, we lean into the reassurance of each other. Winter comes as an inhale: I welcome the frost that climbs the rungs of my spine. Throw yourself in my way, stop this never ending motion of reaching and pulling and climbing. Come in close. Weigh down my breath and bone.