I can taste the wild abandon crunch

underfoot as I spin, tousle-headed glory

on a wing and a whim. I careen, dizzy-drunk,

and sprawl – the poster child for breathless

exuberance. “Bury me!” is the shriek –

perennial as the palette – as I wriggle

and giggle amongst the golds. My mane,

titian in crumbled foliage, proclaims

me Carpo now.  From my rustling nest

I squint against the sapphire sky, sipping

earth’s prolonged exhales. In the must

and dust I cocoon as they fall,

leaves, fall.