I ran
To where the trees don’t change
And I lied, I missed you
Your apple picking, color flashing leaves
A season without plaids
Without pumpkin pie
Without that brown sweater
Where grey skies smile
For they’re expected of less
I ran
To where the sun shined
Where my zipups rusted
But the mornings weren’t crisp
I thought of this
Where the ground solids
Where the rake lay on the ground
Buried in leaves I belonged
I ran
To where the trees hung heavy with
Bright lights
To where golden skies turned hearts gray
Mellow with the cider of season
Mulled in a mellowing soul
Where autumn begins without question
I ran, but now
I wish for a fall