Equinox

Scarlet sumac tugs my eyes

Downward, through

Sunlight’s tangential rays

Suffusing the earth in gold.

Musty forest floor releases heady fertility smells

Inviting me to come hither.

Rust, maize, burnt-sienna leaves

(like August-new Crayolas of long ago)

settle in, breathe a sigh,

and give up the ghost.

They, more than I, understand

This giving up is not a

Going

            Away

                                    But a gifting

                                                 Back.

There remains a crayon trace --

Melted into earth’s floor

Like color-flecks melted into wax paper

Painting the way home

For the lost who pass this way.

Sharon K. Hull, M.D.

 Student Affairs