The Wake

Mid-autumn is here and the leaves have turned to yellow
Moonlight casts our shadows and the cool air is still
I’m breathing in

We rush into our places and perform our childhood games
The grass is wet with dew and our shoes slick on the mud
I’m running

The rising pines of the North Country
The chill of coming winter
The sounds of laughter
The crunch of leaves
Am I back home?

Night games they are called
I’ve forgotten everything else
I can only think of my breathing and my soaked shoes
The rush of blood to warm the cold skin
Somehow the pain erases away
I’ve been given a moment for myself

Jon runs fast and misses my tag
I’m hiding under a bush
I wish I could communicate clearly
And not poetically
But this is how I speak