October

Another October comes

like a release, like a relief

from the scorching sun under which

I stay put in place

joined from the tip of my head to the

branches of the tree I am

supposed to nurture.

I stay fixed and burn and let them

feed off me.

In October, I turn orange.

I let go and I am free

like the fall

I fall and meet those

like me

under the feet of drowning people

who are fixed still

to their branches

just waiting

to be let go of.

But here, this October,

fall free with me.