in the language of falling, flying

the way autumn speaks in leaves
all crackles and whispers
hushed and raging
it pulls us from sleep, begs us to dance.

we have flown through this season before
undaunted and adventurous.
we know about smiles and gray skies,
storm fronts,

birds over rooftops,
fleeing trees that toss and tumble yet are always righted,
their wings, the birds' wings, tip, tip, glide, turn.
everything is moving.  right now.
everything is a motion to which we adapt,
take on,
take off.