Fall(ing) She disrobes, her golden garments shivering to rest in the withering grass as she surrenders to the will of the autumn wind. His chill fingers slip through her hair and down her spine, sliding smoothly between the cracks in her bark. She is awkward in her near nakedness, rooted beneath the fading sky, allowing him to caress her, settling into his cold embrace.
13
Grace Aakre
