The Fall prickled my skin like sweet violins the year you said
It's just gravity. The leaves, New England snow, wedding rice
Aging houses. You grounded me with those words.
Surrounded with reason to lean on, I settled for gravity.
The way it had to be. Rules to follow,
Days to count on, I got science down to an art form.
Then, this morning, as I rose from sleep, I witnessed a miracle:
Sand free-falling down the ocean depths,
Zero oxygen, rock bottom, my voice rising.