Fall

Wood comes to life in the fall.

Wind breathes on it.

Wood responds,

With squeaks and groans and 

Whistles and tones.

Wind stops for a second.

Wood goes silent

Waiting to receive life again.

Wind is there. I know it, because

Wood talks.

Wood tells me stories about Wind as I

Wait in the cabin. 

Wood laughs at 

Wind’s jokes and

Wood cries at

Wind’s memories. I listen to

Wood screech, enraptured in

Wind’s wisps as the goosebumps line my arms. 

Wood comes to life in the fall.

Wind breathes on it.

Wood creaks with glee.