“Autumn Leaf” by Autumn Moss

I fall
The dry crispy air wraps around my aged body
The spiced cold enters my nerves spreading to the deepest part of my stomach
I’m reminded of biting into a fresh plump mint leaf
Opening the walk-in freezer door and grabbing what you came for fast as possible
The touch of now-less-youthful fingers to a glass bejeweled with condensation
Grasses I watched sway sensually, caressed lovingly by the wind, now muted rays of sunshine
Bundled together and so ridged you can snap them in half under your fleece-lined boots
Life hardening and becoming set in its ways
Once fabric-like corn husks must soak for hours before being usable for Christmas tamales
A thick layer of bark will grow around tiny saplings planted in April
Thorns of a drying rose scratching into a palm
Arid air beats back the luscious weeds and soft easily-bruised flowers
Dandelions, sunflowers, and basil rip seeds out of their bleeding hearts
Shooting the possibility for new life high above their heads into the graying skies
Finally collapsing into the frosted soil and inhaling their last breath