a mid-summer's autumn thoughts

Who bothers to trace the footprints we make on a long autumn's street? Printed images of you and me but mostly you and mostly having to do with promises that end up vanishing in a pool of clear water. Watch the autumn colours cast down on me. As each autumn comes I become two years older. This compensates for the way I become a year younger at each summer's end. It's fair. A lift and a fall. A lift and a fall. But yes, the autumn colours. I see only through a shapeless hole, a blue sky revealed to me, revealed to me only through a shapeless hole, so I step back, and all I see is a patch quilt of yellow and orange and brown slender arms that point this way and that and the one leaf dangling off your fingertips transforms into a thousand leaves as we both step back and say, yes, this is autumn, but really, we're standing quite far apart. We wear scarves and try not to catch a cold for it's contagious.