She tripped and fell into the autumn of life,

must’ve been looking up. 

Long gone is spring

Budding at every angle, ache of growing pains, striving sunlight

No longer summer, gone 

in a blink, as they tend to go. 

Dripping sweat of laughter through labour

Bearing fruit the shape of teenage daughters

Abundance, swelling, filling 

up to fingers and toes. 

Here she is changed, forged in that crucible of summer,

like leaves themselves. 

She is ablaze. Send out flares. 

Fiery act of resistance – defiance against the cracking, drying 

out, decay 

of her many petals. 

The drone of cicadas, a fire engine siren, warning that this woman will not surrender 

to the approaching twilight.  

Look at her fervor now. This incendiary moment. Scorching.  

She is luminous. Look at her.