Our Fall

Our season is over. the re the winds of change soar above our heads. we breathe it in with hesitation. not sure of what lives in those winds, afraid to catch a bug of regret or ingest posionous unkept promises.our favorite moments have crumpled under our shoes like dead leaves in the gutter. the sound of their familiar "crutch" is comforting yet alarming. flowers of possiblity blossom all around us. I'm temped not to pick them, gather a bouquet and put them in a glass jar. hoping to preserve them forever to preserve us. but I know better than that. I know our season is over and we must grow accordingly.