On Autumn (A Poem)

The air is cool, clean in the wake of rain
Gray sky hangs too close for comfort
As the leaves finally reveal to us their true colors
And I shed layers of myself

Walking down the cement pathway
Lined on both sides by trees older than time, it seems
I shrug into my knitted scarf
And shrug into myself

In truth, I wear this life
The same way I wear this jacket and this scarf
And, stuffing my arms into the short, snug sleeves,
I am finding that it’s a forced fit

The End

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