Autumn

Trees blossoming like ghostly volcanoes

springing forth devilish offspring.

I count the memories

on my fingers, only

to start again, troubled

by the outcome.

The forest warms me with

her delicate, intertwining, shades

of blood, gold, fire.

I feel I am

a conquistador

of my own fractured existence,

collecting thoughts

in verse, even

as I cup leaves in my palms,

like the jagged remnants of dawn.