Maybe it was the lightness of the early autumn air

or that parasols always made her giggle when opened

but she could never tell just what it was after that day

only that she would never again mock the fraility of love

"It doesn't seem a proper place to say it,"

she heard her friend say as if the leaves listened intently

when everyone knew that leaves were solely talkers

with much to say but so few to say it to before winter came

It could take you in and she knew it when he smiled just so

though she lay there beside him irregardless of these things

dropping like crumbs these morsels of morals and modes

with her odd penchant for the secrets he held on his tongue

"I will love him restlessly till my day's end,"

she said upon afternoons spent among hills and valleys

training her passions to ride off carelessly on the wings of butterflies

until even she believed that she could spend her whole life without him

Winds blew and seranaded the trees who were so under dressed

unsure of whether the appropriate attire was full or falling

and she felt just like them when he pulled her atop him, bodies long

"If only I had worn my sheer dress for you," she replied

Chickadees wondered at the way these people managed themselves

thinking all else disappeared when their lips met again and again

and just maybe they did when they walked away from autumn

their love stored forever in the warm dens of white winters