Fall For It

Ochre becomes her
when shadows precede dusk's demise.
Crisp crunch of tip toes
betrays her strategy.

Jaundiced leaves relinquish summer's grip,
surrendering to the chilled wind-knives
as suicide jumpers spiral upon the pile.

She is silent and supine,
a bed of deadness billows about.
Her ochre now home among the yellow friends.
She remarks on the symbolism
of the dead leaf pile as a bed
and her desire to escape.

A casual glance at her erupting smile
tells me I've been duped again
by my lady who stifles a laugh
as she promises resurrection by spring.