Summer leaves.
I am unfulfilled.
My restlessness begs
to straddle the harvest moon
unbridled, unsaddled,
ride my madness out
galloping night's savannas
and fall to earth on terms
that I decide.

Strident Autumn
tells me no,
will not be persuaded,
lashes with it's bronze and copper
riding crop to tame me.
How can I disobey
October's crisp commands?

Beaten back by gravity's
heavy-handed tactics
I cower like a naked orphan
from hard and constant Winter.