19 October 2022

first frost, oct '22


 

you do not tell your most sacred stories until the first frost

and always

in the dark

 

since 2004 internet searches for the word ‘anxiety’

have gone up 300%

but there is ‘wisdom in insecurity’

sitting with the unknown in the dark

on an empty stomach

while the world sleeps

 

too much summer

the leaves are crisp kindling

and the stories are delayed 

cold air in the morning

off-set by lung-tightening wild fire smoke at daylight

 

altered states are only useful

as long as they are just that

 

will i ever come back?

will we ever come back?

 

where there is perfection

where the known is set in stone

 

there are no stories to tell

 

just stagnant wild fire smoke

hanging in the valley

for an endless summer