The leaves began as amber, but in penetration of the sun and translucence of the light, they were changed and made to gold. In their cast, in their hues, she stood in spirit and the wild
She was beautiful in the gold. She was beautiful in the blue—of sky and denim’s wear—and in witness to her mirth, he knew she felt the magic then—moment, time, and place alive in becoming and manifest of an inner nature, realm, and reverie of autumn-spirit.
They walked amongst the open blue and, too, beneath the trees—cool of air returned to season, easing time and tension of prolonged aridity and heat.
He kissed her in stand under alchemized gold, her hands to his shoulders, arms’ bent in catch and press of chests between; yellow eyes of autumn seen through hide of summer’s green—manifest and sign of heart as all the world around—a magic in moment, a magic in place as evening shade set into spell.
She was beautiful in the light. She was beautiful in the gold, in blue of two-source hues as he dreamed the last away. Through the blue, he vision-knew her pale and beauty of beneath—cool and smooth, like flesh of sycamore—in love-ready, moved to heat.
He kissed her stronger, hands’ wrap and hold in telling on; his finger’s hook through beltless loops of jeans in draw of bodies close and held in press and way of know; center-drift of hand, search and find and soft unfasten to jean-bottom top, slide-sense of hand’s fall-trace and keep in cradle find; cool-smooth’s warming to the touch.
Her smile then of love-intent; the flutter of leaves and waver of heart, cool and warmth of air and flash-flesh sensings—through spine and arms else. Then flutter fall of leaves through sky and their move of together-low—open-souled, cradled hold—into manifest of inner-realm’s expression.