S.A.D.

By the end of summer

My hair knew

Sand & saltwater

My skin knew

The sundance 

I was oily

I was flush

I climbed up from behind the chapel

Above the brittle stand

Of scorched fennel

The valley & its dolls

receded in dull hues

I walked with manzanita

Their once-ripe berries 

Now crumpled on the stem

The burn of the bush

Pinched out one flame at a time

At a small clearing

Of the false peak

I stood upon the schism of seasons

Sadder than Pangaea

Sunset erupted from the opposing ridge

Ulceral

Magmatic

Ashen clouds smothered the sky

But never fell