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Autumn Passion

by Marjorie Sadin

The puffed up clouds. The Autumn smell of fire.
Near dusk. Birds rustle in the bushes.
You, out of breath; me, lost in thought.

The sun is descending. Rouge on its lips.

Neither of us prays. But, I still ask God to keep you alive.
The sun marries the horizon; they come together as one.

The trees change colors. Orange, red, yellow. They undress in winter.
We consummate our autumn flame.

Copyright © 2017 by Marjorie Sadin

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