Feeling Orange

This wind is hard enough
to pick a scab and has
a fall habit of killin’ crops.
The sky is peeling.
Our stalks are empty.
Flocks of birds return as reminders
that there is no more our ,
and crow shit is on the ground
beneath the open arms
of the scarecrow deflating
as its heart blows away.
Damn this time of year
is jarring, assaulting the senses
with such orange weather
that Oranges are referred to
as “Red and Yellows”
because enough is enough,
and even by a different name
this pumpkin looks familiar,
this wind is hard enough
to pick a scab and has.