Flu Season

Flu Season

A crisp bite of autumn falls silent
as new snow becomes a wintry cloak
over the far blue mountain peaks.
From my bed, I shiver at the sound
of a cold October wind suffering
through fall's dying leaves.
Suffering, as am I —
turning and churning within.

The clock ticks into my throbbing head,
ticking with the blinking shadows of twilight.
Darkness gathers across the ceiling,
waiting, watching like a restless eye.
Ticking — twitching — blinking
Until slowly, it creeps over my feverish mind
like a giant eyelid, and I slip
into a fit of delirious sleep.

                    ~ ~ ~

I am fall — huddled on a mountain ledge, fading;
remnants of summer drip off my brow.
I am earth, chilled to my fiery core.
The sky around me is a gray stain
I wrap tight around my shoulders.
I am the wind — moaning through withered trees,
turning and churning,
coughing up dried leaves.
I am me, curled in achy dreams
as darkness gathers under eyes
and cracked lips thirst for mercy.