is it already time for your return

when her sterling glistens gold,
when her scorch burns with warmth,
you know,
She has come.

underneath her gaze,
flowing with Her breath,
she adorned a transient shade.
her skin, silk, strand
fleeting with Her palette.

She comes not
in "the solstice", "changing of leaves", or "biting cold"

She is in
her clicking of heels, cinnamon wisp, emboldening leather.

She has come to break my fall,
so I call her,
Fall.