Autumn- Streets of Gold

It's here- my favorite short-lived season.  Here's a poem I wrote when I first returned to Western New York after years of living in Spain.

Another Look at Happiness

 

 

Not the shock of orange leaves,

autum so bright it hurts,

Not your eyes tight on mine,

the stomach fall of your kiss.

 

Nor my country, Spain, distant

steeped in red wine and salt,

nor your Burma,

smell of woodsmoke and green,

when you close your eyes.

 

But this small space within

where solitude cushions

each fearless act.