OCTOBER

There is an infinite space
inside an atom, a massive void
into which universes tumble
and stars and planets are born.
Outside, the maple leaves
burning flame and crimson
spiral to the lawn, which
waits to receive them.
Autumn is the season
when the earth prepares to die
and it is left to us
to prepare the gravesite.
The white squirrel stands
on the fence rail, defying
me to find my camera,
his latest nut husks
slowly staining the concrete
of the walk. And yet
we cling to the fleeting sun
as it traverses horizons
for winter brings nothing
and asks even less.

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