Currents
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The fallen leaves swirled along the road tonight.
On the headlight beam
orange leaves and yellow -
the swirl of fall colors.
The trees were ghosts,
the moon too distant for consolation.
If I sped no cop would stop me,
but the dizzying whirl
of remembered currents
would be ticket enough.
Fall is for lovers;
the turning colors, the easy wind,
the roadside rendezvous at dark hours,
the hickory yellows and the sugar maple reds...
Last fall the leaves were brighter.
The sun warmer, and in your company
I was indifferent to winter's possiblity.
I shivered in passion, in colorful pleasure.
A simple swirl of yellow -
And what currents it whirs in me!
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mG. (10-18-05)
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