Autumn Cocoon

I feel autumn in my bones, a kind of leaf-like fluttering shivering all through my skin; it’s time for a change. It’s time to bring my eyes inside, it’s time to close up my flailing limbs and sit careful to listen. It’s time to breathe deep into my insides and feel myself reverberate, what skin is growing all around me?

I am not a single, whole person, just a collection of human snapshots, just an accumulation of busy cells and shades of consciousness. I am spinning silk for my autumn cocoon, hopeful silk, filaments of a searching self, made of all the requests I have whispered into the universe. I am spinning silk for my autumn cocoon; it’s made of the memories of beautiful things, glimpses of love and naked humanness, the kind of honesty visible in the collar bone, in chewed fingernails. These things are my request to the universe, I want to wrap myself in reminders of falling leaves, worn books and thrift store boots, music and the people that make it with their bodies and their souls, candle light and soft yarn, the sweetness of strangers, cold feet and warm socks, beautiful brains humming together at similar frequencies. I want to wrap myself in the thoughts of these things and bring them to me, bring them to me.