There was some strangeness in the wind.

I caught a familiar hum which I had grown stranger to.

And as I looked up from my immediate foreground I noticed a sway in the trees and a fading day behind them being carried by the same coolness which shuttered my neck left uncovered by my half worn jacket.

I brought up my collar and followed the strands in the sky. Rustles of dying, and falling leaves lead my senses to alignment with past memories and I stood in the same place, in the same multitude of places. The hill behind a home which I had past known and was alone in in a once shared moment. Cornered by cities I’ad sworn to return to for sake of my life which has hence since been sacrificed. Before a barn which housed nothing and was sure to not belong in the generations succeeding, coated in dust and lone preference for a fate. In hand with someone whom gave witness for a season and whom will always be loved, though too has forgotten something of that meaning. In cars making admittance which shaped a house never to be returned to, forsaken by its crafter. Along a path carved centuries ago following nothing but perception and an expectation, given up along cool waters intoxicated and afraid of all which surrounded me. Dead upon the floor of a foreign bathroom, or the rug I once made love on, or perhaps the base of a cross; regardless, in place which held no significance to me now. And since, I have been asleep, and subtly forgetting the name of Autumn. And since the first and the last I have cast away and recollected many selves all forgetting their names And now, if I close my eyes so to lose my sense, I could gently feel the remembrance of myself here, by someone much more forsaken then I. And I remember these thoughts, the whispers and hums, these branches and creaking sounds of many cries, this loneliness and the strands which have blended, and since swallowed the sky.

To this and future season(s),

Taylor