Fall

That gentle descent.

That familiar scent.

As your dressings descend,

In a chaotic dance.

Some floating.

Some shaking.

Some whipping,

And tripping,

And filling the air.

A carpet of auburn

Returns us to there.

A resting, arresting,

A calling of calm.

To gather, to tether.

We all hunker down.

A consolidation.

Vibration.

A lift and a fall.

S. Camplin