Love letter # 326
And in a blink, with a quiet inevitability, we find ourselves at the end of summer – these the last balmy nights, the last songs of the season. Soon, we will turn our heads away for a moment and, when we look back, will see that it has gone. Leaves at our feet. Beginning shivers.
I swim into the shimmer of your gaze, the long golden hour of love in its vaulting prime, and, in a blink, suspended autumn, with a barely noticeable creak of the levers, inches into motion. How then shall we walk in this shortening light? What dance might we do in the absence of songs?