Autumn waits,
Steps through the doubts
Of summer
Into the cold.
Autumn remembers
Hopes of spring
Burning hot,
Dripping hot, into dust
Growing, reaching,
Maturing.
Autumn knows
Hope matured,
Dreams standing full
Like corn in the field.
Autumn sees the breath
Of spring as vapors
Into a morning sky,
As dust, into July,
Into the quiet of winter.
Really, if you love the wind,
Spring blows free,
Autumn blows so different;
It is the time between.