you’ve changed.
I noticed it
in  that final photo
on the mountain.
Your face
as ever fair
now aglow,
tinted with
ministrations
of earth and air,
wind and water,
the kiss and rub
of your lover’s lips,
the play of his fingers
on your freckled cheek,
 
but more.
These last days,
as though passing through
a necessary door,
as though changing a life-skin,
you have been transformed.
More beautiful now
than even this season’s light,
falling against your window,
filling this room to the brim
with the treasure of autumn.
 
I am entranced.
And why,
yesterday,
Dear Keeper of my Heart,
I stood transfixed in your kitchen
all sense and courtesy
flown into the damson tree.
 
Suddenly. . .