fellow

i let the autumn winds fool me
tossing me into directions unknown
hazing the fields ahead
with smoke from the eastern escarpment
folding my hands blindly
to paths unfamillar
where trails bleed
with old tales of yesteryear
echoes of a past life
continuing a sacred lie
to manifest until the end
of luke warm days
second chill nights
or the counting down
to the first snow fall
masqueraded in bliss
of the heralding arrival
of shivers down the valley