Fall Garden

Fat pink hydrangeas do their dance of decay, reminding me that fullness and fatality coexist like these pink leaves curling into brown. Fiery orange flowers spring from rock: just another every day miracle. A single white butterfly fluttering like a prayer on the fringes of my mind. The hard rock beneath me glitters gold, hinting of secret treasure. My God feels like this September sun: warm and close, like fingers around my neck, applying just enough pressure to prove its power. My God smells like these fragrant leaves I smell with my fingertips. Stroking studded branches releases the scent of sun-drenched soil. I could slumber underground in these rich soil beds. Icoiuld thread like a cat through the legs of my enemies, purring with peace. I could coil like a snake on this sun-baked rock. I could land fat and heavy as a bumblebee on a flower, bending the bloom toward me to sip its sweet elixir. I could grow wild as flowering weeds, insisting on my tangled beauty and myplace in the sun.