In deep September
The air was thick with change
And of everything it was time to say.
With each breath of wind and lung
The truth came closer.

In ripe October
We hunted apples like Missionaries;
Shoulder to shoulder in the brush.
The graze of a hand
The gentle whisper of skin to skin
And the colorful world became electricity.

In forgetful November
We clung together in howling rain
Cheering the lumbering giants
Creeping down sixth avenue.
Your inverted umbrella
Our own private world.

In December
Our hands pleading for warmth from steaming mugs
The truth unraveled.
In a stream of words and consciousness
Came everything I meant to say
About the Fall.
I gazed at you; a spent flood.
Your eyes lifted.
And I knew
That even in cold December
Life can blossom.