My Prayer This Autumn

I want to say a prayer made of grass

lying rumpled under morning frost

thick enough to crackle like glass under my boot.

I want to say a prayer of sweet compost

letting 3 horrifying years decompose 

while I brush my long hair in the cold, clean breeze.

I want to say a prayer made of leaves

so vibrant I soak my body in honey

and walk naked through the birch 'til I’m dressed in gold.

-poem and image by Gloria Garrett