leaves whoosh across the sunny path,

perpendicular to my westward trek

tomorrow, my friends, a different story

in explorer-mode, I stroll along

a newly discovered trail.

its path, dotted with hedge apples,

weaves and winds

through grassy woods, gentle hills

where cattle grazed, not so long ago.

I’m as thrilled as a child, the child I still remain,

transported beneath an autumn-blue sky

to a magic surround, one I don’t ever want to leave —

you can’t make me!

we discuss AI, the Battle of Thermopylae

one’s personal canon, pop quizzes on Halloween

self-checkout, self-nurturing bedtime podcasts —

I feel closer to you now than I’ve ever felt,

our long-distance mother-child symbiosis

sporadic moments of joy

erupting in everyday witness

of what is & what still might be

it begins in the far, upper reaches

of the north; some might suggest

at the very top of the world.

tiny whispers at first, a whistle, a hiss —

soon, a screaming, screeching banshee.

its momentum builds and grows and expands

across forests, lakes, rivers & ponds,

vast acres of woodland, mountains and plains,

spreading south into the disjointed States.

frigid cold, a raw & hungry wind —

a relentless ferocity that inundates the land.

seasons shift within seasons

and time is held captive

to the merciless impulses of nature.