I ALWAYS LOVED THE TIME OF YEAR

 

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