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In a field behind a hotel where we stayed one night, I stood under a solitary tree. The branches reached up, out and then down, forming a sort of umbrella above me. The leaves were dainty, almost a spiral shape. Presumably once green, on this day they were  many golden shades of yellow, fired to almost orange in the early morning sun.

I stood under the tree, and in the morning silence there was only one sound –  a steady, gentle pitter-patter. The same sound you might hear when you stand under a tree after a rainstorm and the wet drips steadily to the ground. This was not rain, though. The tree was shedding it’s leaves, singing autumn’s song, a steady thrum of release and renewal: leaf to earth, life to death.

autumn orangeWhy is this such a magic time? You wondered aloud one day.  Autumn, so beautiful in it’s dying, so invigorating in it’s insistence on life.  We both find greater renewal in the mystery of Autumn than we do in the innocence of Spring.

You and I were conceived in the depth of winter, born in the orange glow of autumn.  Our spring was an orange sherbet rose, plucked with the faith of uncertainty as we flew through cyberspace to our destiny.  Magic.  How do I speak of any of it, truthfully?


My love

I want to write for you a poem that will say everything
so that I don’t have to utter a word

and so that you will know what I meant when I said
I would go home with you
that day

And so many days since.

orange sherbet rose

Our love flowed first through wires and subspace.  Our own intimate hyperspace.  No photos, no phones, no social networks. We learned to crawl toward each other in black and white, through the spaces between the words. Our emails took time, and in the luxury of no-time, they taught us to wait, to listen, to respond slowly.

A courtship of conversation.

We are meant to be here.  If there is such a thing as destiny, ours was formed long before we met. There’s no other way to explain how we’ve made it – an unlikely pair, so different, yet so alike.

My love, I thank you for these years that we have shared, for the really hard times as well as the really joyful times. There is not a moment that I regret, for all of it has served us well, brought us what we needed, reminded us of who we really are.

You are who I Am, I Am who you Are.  Together, we walk another road.

autumn road