Ground Fire

Shhh. Shushes the wind. Fall is falling in. When it only wanted to get its feet wet. 

Now we are drenched in wind.

Squeaks the trees. Groaning grinding bark 

above their tangled feet. Fire in the ground. 

Roots get hollowed out. 

And all you see is smoke.

She said it was worst form of fire.

Hugging its own arms and legs as it gets torn apart. Eaten by the breeze like a river swallowing creeks. There is an ocean in the sky.

Birds swim, they don’t fly. 

Trees filter like ferns for light. 

And vines vy for their height.

Same as eyes. Stared up. 

Open. And out.

While autumn shushes all, gold leaves fall,

and tall trees shake bare fists and shout.

Time has come. And like strong steady wind.

It whispers.
Move. Or be moved along