Autumn-fall-thought-quake

As october works its way up from frothy turmoil to roiling boil i find myself standing on a street corner at a quarter to six in the morning waving to my younger sister as she sets off on her grand adventure across the country to L.A. with a forest green ford focus named 'the lesbian' packed to the gills with her clothes and junk and books and stuff.
As i wave, her little red tailights become smears in the morning darkness, and i climb the stairs to the apartment i will only live in for two more weeks with a heavy heart.
Many things are coming to an end this fall, and the earth tricks and trembles a bit with every moment reminding me now i have run out of excuses, and this is the time, this is the winter, that i have to begin living my life again. the opportunity, the affirmations, the whole fuse is there spitting and sparkling and trying to decide whether or not it's lit, and i stand above it, looking down wondering if i have the guts or the lungs to blow on it.
bob's niece was born five days ago, abigail olivia, a new baby entering a very unstable, unreliable world on perfect, untouched legs.
Friends wax and wane like the moon, rounding into focus and blasting light into unseen shadows and alternatively cowering and covering themselves and holing up for their own reinvention.
For the first time i am throwing words around, hurling them like reluctant baby birds into the air and screaming for them to open up before they hit the ground.
Walking about two days ago, i came across a wing torn from some poor aviator, the bone protruding from the feathers where the joint connected to the body, a small tendril of red sinew coiled on the pavement. Somewhere a cat smurks and licks its whiskers.
The familiar repetitive actions of the bakery are comforting because i know what results they will glean, and there is nothing else in life right now quite so dependable. i keep taking inventory, scraping together what i think i know about what to do and where to go and trying to figure out if the numbers all make sense, and perhaps it's not the point.
Maybe the point is to let of all the plans, like leaves in fall and let them scatter, skip and find their own places to lie down for winter.