When furled leaves glide on blue sky wings, and land
In whispering, watercolored heaps; when sharp
The tongues of frosty air that lick the grass
To ashen gray; when in the sighing breaths
Of wind the maple waves its bony arms;
I shuffle, brown and shriveled, to this place.
Where once we wandered in the quiet light--
Your freckled face, these same soft hands--and kissed
Beneath this lasting tree, its silver bark
Still smooth--I stand now looking back through years
Of sliding seasons, changing dreams, and reach
For slipping memory of tender days.
And though the crumbled leaves form dust that flies
Far from your grave, and apple cider spills
From lips too old to kiss your face, the fall
Still comes, before the lonely winter months,
And sweeps us close once more. So underneath
A clear blue sky, while love-red leaves drift down,
And walnut shells, a poison-green, begin
To split, the echoes soft float through the air
Of laughter here: we’re autumn kissed again.
