Autumn

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    Autumn

    Autumn
    The cool Autumn wind blows briskly as the trees shiver their first of the season, while the artistic magic of nature begins to paint a masterpiece rivaled in beauty only by the vibrant colors of springtime blossoms.

    Now that the light of the day grows dim at an earlier hour and the warmth of the sun lingers less into the clear night sky, we seem more sensitive to the cool evening breezes. The feeling causes a tingle at the back of our neck not unlike the tingle we feel the first time we peer into someone's eyes and realize that we are in love with them.

    The outward warmth of the summer has been replaced by an inner, more intimate warmth. That warmth shared by two people gazing quietly into a crackling fire while sitting close together as one. The flames within their souls even more intense than those which glow in the hearth before them.

    Although many believe that spring is the time for love, it is autumn that intensifies those feelings within my soul. Inside these dark chilly nights, the heat of passion is ignited. Sometimes manifesting itself as uncontrolled physical love, and others, equally intense, as emotional, soulful love. Each form creating a bond between two beings as intense as the sun itself.

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    If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry.

    Emily Dickinson (1830-1886) American poet.

    WJP’s Poems (5)

    Title Comments
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    The Sun, Moon and Stars 0
    Individually Twisted 0
    Imagination 0
    Fusion 0
    Autumn 0

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