I
always loved the time of year
Long
before that perfect day
It
was a perfect morning
The
best of autumn
The
sky the clearest blue
The
air crisp and clean
The
last remnants of mist
Burnt
away by the rising watery sun
And
there she stood
As
if to improve on nature itself
A
vision of perfection
Standing
at the edge of the woods
From
beneath her woolen hat
Flaming
red hair fell
Then
danced upon her shoulders
And
caught on her scarf
Breath
plumed from her smiling mouth
As
she spoke to her dog
Then
she began to walk
The
hem of her long coat swung
With
the rhythm of her hips
As
she strode into the woods
The
spaniel chasing a stick she had thrown
Her
boots crunching leaves underfoot
Still
crisp with frost
Where
the sun hadn’t reached
“Come
on Jimbo” I said
Letting
the dog out of the car
And
we followed her into the wood
I
walked amidst the skeletal trees
Where
Squirrels ran here and there
Still
busily preparing for winter
I
kicked through the carpet of leaves
Feeling
like a schoolboy again
And
birds settled in my wake
Feeding
on insects in the disturbance
In
a clearing I saw her again
Her
red hair like fire
Illuminated
in the sunlight
The
dogs soon introduced each other
And
we did also
Two
dog lovers talking in a wood
Two
people who would become lovers
Who
both loved the time of year
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