Autumn Days Poem by Eli MorenoDrew

These autumn days with the air waltzing slow enough to be cold,
Yet not stagnant enough to bite the skin,
Have me frequenting a coat and patio set.
Before I sit, I breathe that swaying air
As if I have never seized a breath like that one,
Like I found out I was my own God
And by being so, the conductor to my own symphony.
I never exhale until I am ready to leave that frame
But when I do sink my chest and dip my shoulders
It comes out as a sigh instead of affirmation,
Sometimes so quickly the wind's tempo staccatos.
The sky cries mediocrity while the clouds whisper change,
The sun and moon sing consistency
And our lives sing along.
I never think of blankets to keep me warm:
Blankets, like follies, seasons, and bacchanals, stretch far enough
Then simply end because no one tells them otherwise
Or no one learned how to.
The threet! of the birds domesticating an Elderberry tree
Pulls my ear and tilts my head
Breaking what petite cavalier thought I carried.
I trudge back inside like an unsatisfied soul
Heavier than I was before,
As if I had lost the God that was inside of me.