Turn around and run away with me. Yes, we'll go there you and I around the sudden lie that waits beyond the ribboned hills brown and deep and resting dry.
Autumn comes in curls to wrap about our legs and kisses our toes and feet to meet the running ground. October sun pours down on smoking woods, you can smell the woods and hear the flying v's of honking geese telling time to red rock creeks. We'll sing rain and wander climb above the town, see it below the woods and find us there in a warm and wooded place that smells like squirrels ambling through the treetops musty full of nutty love and winter's night creeping up behind us. We'll sleep on piles of chesnuts drying buried deep by little claws.
Shhhhhh, I can hear the solstice clock.
When the moon comes up we will fly away you and I, like snowbirds that never fall but cross the sky and never wonder nor look back but keep on flying until the dawn brings us soaring down to nest in bedtime trees brown and rustling, in the wind.
The seasons spin their circles round telling time in fours and threes and there we go around the ribboned hills brown and whispering trees. I run along a creekbed caked in mud and running happy to be alive on an autumn day and panting after a dog who outruns me leaps about me laughing that silly dog.
You and I we'll echo joy in hollowed woods that keep their secret buried deep beneath the miles of earth where Charon lies.
When winter crystals melt away, we'll dig each other out...and see our shadows rise.