Autumn Rising

Some say fall is the season of death

When decaying leaves fashion trees into skeletons

And seemingly endless summer nights

Are brought to their knees by a cool breeze

And just a little bit of twilight

But I never feel more alive than I do in autumn

Crimson and gold foliage like flames

I rise from their ash and am created anew

The crisp air caresses my fingers

Nudging them to curl around a ballpoint pen

And press against the page

Like smooth honey drizzled on bread

I hunger for it

Some say fall is the season of death

Of ghost stories and the macabre

But every spirit that roams betwixt cemetery gates

Gives hope that there is more to this world

Than flesh and bones

The leaves fall only to grow again.