Dwelling in the rust that gilds the woodland floor, Injecting the pathway to the cycle beyond the doors Back into the open arms of a wilting chestnut tree. Silver slid up the track marks through cambium into being, Ascending to the fire that spoke from each and every leaf, Elevating the witness higher into the branches, the furnace. Sap lit and glistening beads dripped; And when the fires dimmed, and smoldered again They were held stationary, like frozen shards of rain. Brushing aside the curtain of glistening droplets, Peering into the embers within: The glow of a dying fire, A heartbeat for autumn's oncoming.