Fall sees a blaze of trees' flaming leaves.
Phoenix feathers flying, falling,
Can you smell the hot wood smoke?
Liquid light pours forth, behind, and through,
Illuminating new hues in every color of warmth and spice,
Fooling my eyes against the air's iced knives...
Like discovering shimmering gold in my world
Which had been only sepia of old.
Shades of sparkling amber,
Warm whiskey fire for my soul.
And I can't forget; recall now
Carmine, crimson, blood red ruby tones
Of passion, too, dotting through, marking the view
Like needle-pricked fingers
Pressed to pursed lips,
Breath drawn in—
Piping, glowing magma, smooth, viscous
Rhubarb pie filling me, my world, too.
A cabernet bitter and dry and true
Lingers on my tongue.
Gifts of the sun and summer gone
I taste my lips and remember you
Liked the kiss of wine on mine,
That's why they call it autumn.