I always heard your words and wondered for your core. There's a crawling sensation and my calendar is ludicrously long. I felt the metaphor, when I picked the falls. There with another, once, for a quick, chilled visit-- I questioned the brevity of that stay in that midst. And I wonder if the thunder I hear now is memory or premonition. The weight of all that water so near, skews me. You skewer me, like I'm made, missed until the Ides of October hit.