Moments before the earth grows docile

Cicadas hiss in such a fury I can’t even hear my own thoughts

The buzzing bouncing off the thudding swoosh in my own ears

Humidity that is hot and sticky clings to my face and the skin between my breasts

Though autumn is nigh, the sun’s burden of heat scorches my skin

Enflames my already hot scalp

Earth has decided to carry on its chaos as it knows a gradual shift of its presence, it’s power and strength will begin to fade

Starting with the leaves no longer as green as moss covered tree bark

Or when the mornings shift to a bitter cold, frost slabbing itself against smooth rocks and tips of grass

And though the hot smell of earth ripe with life still burns my nose, the haunting smell of decay lingers ever so lightly clinging to trees, to dirt, to the air

Even the hope of smelling apples on trees, the sweet, clean smell of life still clinging to the drooping branches is nothing but a reminder that the precipice of death is near