Willms Road

October stings my nostrils:
the scent of harvest, skunk,
and smoldering leaves

heavy with dust and recent twilight.
Gravel crunches patiently underfoot,
monologuing in earthy tones

on sediment and sand.
Brittle air pinches my cheeks
and the gentle roundness of your ears

until they blush from the attention,
red as summer, cold as frost.