Tanka by
along
the trail
a
thatch of moldering leaves-
the
smell
of
old wine barrels
in a
dank cellar
our
dance together
choreographed
after
years of
practice
knowing
without speaking
each other's
moves
reaching
upward,
the
heavy limbs of the maple
dimmed by
the mist
the
eternal patterns of autumn
spread
before me
the
languid nights gone-
chill
winds, hinting of winter
chase
away lovers;
bare
branches let in the sky
and
the earth turns brown
my
hand in yours
we
walk a path in autumn;
no
two leaves the same
we
search for the perfect one
to
preserve for life