Breath as defiance in the cold autumn, a season of dull yellows, blood orange, eventually pitch dark winter nights. We are constantly on trial, breathing in the ice, exhaling wisps of heat, bundled under the stress of the changing season. If you can live through October, there will be November, and an end to the most trying of years will be past by January. Keep on. Keep pulling in all the angry, cold air, even when the crisp oxygen penetrates your chest, you must keep on living.
About the Author:
Melissa Wabnitz Pumayugra is a writer based out of central Texas who enjoys a great tall tale and a medium iced coffee. Her work centers around identity, cultural phenomena, and embracing the past. Her photography and writing can be found in Blood Orange Review, You Might Need to Hear This, Oklahoma Today, Emerson Review, Hobart, and many other obscure publications scattered throughout the globe.