Fall Therapy
An open window.
My hands tapping on the windowsill.
We don’t have so many wasps.
That sting.
The breeze comes in.
Words come in.
Strangers can walk by all they want.
When fall starts, they stop caring.
All we care about are donuts and apple cider.
That’s fall.
That’s September.
A leaf can stick to my shoe.
A leaf I can’t feel, but can be peeled away.
In my therapy session,
She closes the window, it’s too cold now.
That’s what windows do.
They close to keep it warm inside.
That’s fall.
I’m in therapy.
For another September.
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