Jackets that fell, jackets of fall

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I woke up and Fall was here. 

Naptime eyes remembered the

touch of light clothes in a

summer breeze, blowing

responsibility and dark clouds away.

Neverending heat, 

laziness and comfort,

until the west breeze came under my skin,

so tired my eyes exclaimed that I 

had to rest. 

I arose, the sky casting farewells

and there it was

like I remembered in some faraway dream that came

every year. 

Rustling coos of the turning leaves, 

where one thing can become something else entirely,

so brings the wave of change

where will that leave me?

Humans too bring back their old jackets

sometimes they need to go out and buy more

clothes, in order to keep warm with the 

change. 

I go out and ask the trees who have shared

this summer with me,

ask them before they fall, before they leave, 

If we as humans have changed?

In reply, short and courteous, 

“The moth comes when it needs to feed, but after the ripping comes the patching, and then the new, and the old jacket is hung.”

I come home, 

pull open my closet,

my jacket has many patches

there’s not much room for more,

I pull it on, the cloth clinging

too tightly.

Rough with age.

Yet, each stain held

tenderly in my eyes.

But there was no denying

it was outgrown. 

Its eyes were ready to close

In memories. 

I guess it’s time 

to find another