In that low bright light

That cuts through the leaves last cry

The crisp air amplifies lingering scents

Of wood smoke, wet earth, apple rot

I feel the lack of you

A memory I don’t have yet

 The cold on my neck where a thumb will be

It is not lonely

You can’t be lonely for someone you haven’t met

But I swear there is a second set of steps

In that dead grass

So I look back but I know it’s really

A head, through the turning leaves

Through an undetermined amount of seasons

I can remember you though, forward through time

Like the trees remember to fall in fall

And that there is always more life ahead