Blooming in Autumn

Winter is approaching, finally

Brutal sun, I miss you already

I can take the fire of creation, not so much the leaking of the heavens

 

I'm thinking up spirits for items

Goddess of tea cups

Keeper of pens, the instruments of expulsion

God of gardens and forests

Saints of all normal things, eyes cast over daily

Unseeing their fullest glory

 

I'm singing songs to self, that I'd promised to scream external

Throw at the world

 

But in the opening to Autumn

Slowly, petting the ego and the fearful body

I'm blooming in the rain