Where is the dancer that winds between leaves,

cascading crests of golden sunlight,

dappling minty trees?

Where are the cotyledon needles,

the fiery blades,

burning red,

the blood-red color of metamorphosis?

Where is the soft sigh of change,

the blanket of warmth,

the smiling arms of Sun,

The friend whose rays

speak of shimmery scintillation?

Why is the north wind changing?

The stars,

their shifting silhouettes

shadowed against a luminescent night sky,

the cerulean of dusk,

in the wake,

behind my eyes?

Why is the sky so blue?

azure,

cyan,

ultramarine,

the lapis of a watery eye?

why not black, 

the tendrils 

of empty space

r e a c h i n g

whispers in my ears,

within the reach

of a breath 

turning transparent in the wind?

Where is my reflection,

the rosy cheeks of cold,

bright and glassy,

reflected in the pellucid waters?

Here it is.

Fall is here.

It’s always been.

Within.