Fall means

Falling down,

Picking up the pieces,

Oh, there are so many pieces.

I will lay here on the colorful quilt that they make.

Comforting familiarity,

The pain of loss,

The memories locked in beauty and wonder,

Of sadness.

But as short days turn into a bustle of new growth,

I will stash these away,

Until next year.

And I will remember a new iteration,

Sprawling out in groves.