Autumn Finds Us

Echoes of orange cooled the fragrance of an ancient spell I sought through bare feet.

I curled them around pine cones, their spiral temporalities. Faith is an abstract form, manifested in touch

and choice. Feeling for resemblances, or reminders She exists. (Fancy to find in these crumbling woods.)

Nothing comes close. Only traces of bloodlines traversed---

track-marked instances present-ever---

animate, alive, and the howling weather---