The cold wind blows summer into memory and piles of leaves swirl and surround my feet.
My jacket covers your shoulders as we leave the restaurant,
despite your protestations that summer is not done.
despite your protestations that summer is not done.
Pumpkins turn in to Jack-O-Lanterns and green leaves fade to golden valleys
swarming with apple pickers and picnic baskets.
swarming with apple pickers and picnic baskets.
The seasons have changed, and so have you.
Swimming and bike trails give way to sit-up and DVDs in front of the TV
The couch calls louder while running shoes cry lonely tears in the closet.
Energy, once burned off in summer sun, ruminates and builds beneath the skin.
It tingles and boils in parts inconvenient.
Work clothes itch by day’s end and are shed en-route home.
Car heaters crank up and warm
even as skin is exposed and needs are suppressed.
even as skin is exposed and needs are suppressed.
Thoughts of him, and release, and bed, push out the frenetic summer and long for the comforts of his arms.
His number appears and you answer too quickly, and I raise my eyebrow.
Instructions are quietly given, gratitude expressed, and the line cut in eagerness.
You open the windows and plug in the blanket, knowing I will be leaving soon.
Water runs, steams, heats and steams more.
You stand at the water’s edge and wait in strict obedience, already wet in the creases.
As I drive to work, leaving you to him.
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