autumn in me

cucumber and bread sit with me on a bench
we do not touch each other

sunlight presses on my back
eyes shaded by the sparse stems of the locust tree
whose green has not yet turned to honey
thick with water and light
thriving in the harshness of autumn

emerald leaves laughing at unfortunate company
at trees with veins closed to nourishment
leaves who have lost their color
who will not grow
who find comfort in dirt

withering

dying

falling

sunlight presses on my back
seeking shriveled veins

of late maturity
of incipient decline
of inanition
of autumn in me