Autumncalm

 

Drops of pure sunlight

pouring in their

patterned thousands.

A bright, beaded curtain

flowing gently down,

A golden gift,

Honeydew, river-bound,

I sit spell-grounded

as autumncalm

drifts slowly by.

 

Trees huddle,

removing clothing red and gold,

Sturdy trunks,

worthy in their girth,

Newly naked

to the clear blue sky.

Saving their sap

through the winter,

Their secrets held

still and safe

in the knowledge

of Springtime's eventual,

sensual, rise.

 

I glance at you,

and we dream,

and smile.