A Season’s Echo

That autumn, with you a possibility,
summer’s retreat hesitated. Flickers of
something glinted while trees sighed
their last objections among honeyed
scents and languid sunsets.
At last she withdrew, leaving cloudless
skies and fires to be kindled. Flame enough
was found in the sound of my name from
your lips – measured, careful. An energy
radiated from that word; charged, I think,
by the hazy light in your eyes – captivating
across a room – breathless.
So we sat together, talking, and behind you
through the window I saw the trees breathe
a sigh of contentment, shedding their blazing
disguise and I knew, all at once, that I was
falling like the leaves – naturally, in autumn.

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