Autumn
I love and I don't love, and the moon
waxes and wanes just the same
My sighs mingle with those of the 
tired ash tree
I step out of myself, and prepare to step
into my winter self
And for a brief, chill, thrilling moment
I am free to love or not love
To fly or not fly.  To fall or not fall.

To be.


2 October 1997

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