I really do smile more, don't I?

I like to think I smile more when autumn comes

I caught myself grinning out the window

Trees back home don’t look like that, so full

A tree skirt has a Christmas connotation

But the middle of October brings its own

Fabric made of red and gold, a mimicry

Of girls who traipsed beneath the same colors

That their own mothers stitched under the moon--

A moon that held a silvery intention

To curl the palms of every shivering child

Alive beside the wilting clematis

Hearts thump-thump pumping blood of every shade

The myth of oxygen touching open veins

That turn it blue as my nose at first frost