10.23.2016

tunnels of trees

gold, flame, fading

browns fill us as

we drive.

my heart slows

back to times

when we piled

then crunched

ourselves into the

musky crisp

that held them and

wrapped around us.

we’d laugh and leap

and feel them in our

faces until they

tickled our noses

and then carefully,

carefully, we’d pile

them into hugeness

that our fathers

would touch off with

a match and laugh

with us, our mutual

faces shining

as the pyre streaked

to the sky and it was

the best of

fall times.

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