Autonomous Autumn, Autumn of Insects

It’s in the way of words
To be almost ourselves
In the way that the world

Seeks out every small change,
Rings it and leans on it.
It’s in the way of bugs

To swell and diminish.
Yes. Autumn is with us,
Is one way to put it.

It goes by itself. Sing
Crickets, but you’re not it.
Words aren’t it. But it’s us.