Autumn

it's that time of year again
when winter's roguish lips kiss the trees of summer
make them blush the same red i blushed
when you took my child's hand and i became a woman

the whispering green that soothed my fevered nights
rots away into a brilliant bloody rug
that cushions my bare feet as I stumble my way through
another winter pilgrimage without you

and suddenly i'm wrapped up
tangled in the smother of winter-white blankets
that do not quell the goosebumps as much as
warm woolen sweaters used to do

the skeleton of summer's embrace resists
remains throughout the tundra's subtle tyranny
survives as i survive, holding onto the promise
of the next time the sun will rise to warm my skin