Fall

The air changes slowly from the heavy, thick Sonoran prison;

I can breathe, and feel the world again;

The thick desert fog behind me, for now;

Fall breathes freedom through my lungs;

Lightness soaks into and through my skin;

I find myself again;

Waking from the heated slumber, an oppressive state of being.

I hear the air.

The sound of Fall is a high octave, crisp like crystal;

In contrast, the baritone of summer. Deep, Suffocating.

Fall is the song of soprano singing through me, and I want to dance in the wake of the monsoon.

I am lifted; floating on a new resonance of being.

Fall is my freedom.

I am myself again.

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