Eloquent, deciduous lovers.

Trees gone Paleo

and changing their makeup.

Soon to drift to decay.

Failing to make the most of

advantageous, auburn sunlight.

Smolder with the

color of fire,

only to wither.

Only to usher in

a brittle winter.

Darkness comes early.

I will rub my body

with golden rod

to create fake light.

The smell of damp,

of wood, and old books.

Tree things stolen.

The deer will eat our bark

as we weather snow.

Roots were never

deep enough to regrow.

One less ring to count

when we get cut down.

Just one more

strike of an ax.

Love burns

The color of fury, possessed:

Warm to a lover’s

Distant touch;

Hell to enemy thot.

Gentle, such flows:

Love’s healing,

As it grows.

While cool strokes the bottom

Of the dewy morn,

After adrift through

Ancient night,

Prickles of warmth

Once again invent space,

And push back years

To the moment

Of love’s first embrace,

To the sight of your

Afternoon locks,

Bimetallic, they:

The deliciousness of

Hot copper strawberry

And tropic golden banana.