Blackbirds descend
onto tree limbs, settle among
the orange and yellow
of fall. The sun hangs heavy
in the afternoon sky, forms
the backbone of our days:

bright pinks, deep reds bleed
through the empty spaces between
the birds, between the branches,
between my ribs where promises
bloom, fade, where we fall
to the ground to be gathered and burned

and autumn is announced in a dream
of black leaves rising, ascending
from empty branches, drifting,
spreading slowly south