When the trees call home
They blow and billow and cry.
When the leaves fall aground,
among the carnage stands I.
The air swirls crisp.
Warmth- not a wisp.
When the trees call home
They sway and mumble and chatter.
When the branches hang low,
beneath the sad arms I shelter.
Sunlight flashes.
Memory- ashes.
When the trees call home
They shimmy and shake as they sigh.
When the night grows long,
be with them to dance will I.
Daydream- over.
Love, October.
