Orange brings peace and warmth;
is in the sunset, the autumn wind,
rustling the leaves of the maple trees on the hill outside my door.
Burnt orange paints their tips,
draws me in.
I remember autumns when you held my hand.
We skipped across the field,
twirled and twirled until we fell laughing through wind-tossed leaves
onto the welcoming earth.
You were autumn to me.
You were in the wind that lifted the leaves to dance them down the street.
You were in the leaf pile where grey smoke arose
scenting the day, forming memories.
You were the fullness of the azure blue sky,
the apples we picked;
our teeth crunching through skin and flesh,
sticky juice flowing down our chins,
laughing as we licked our fingers.
Still, you are the autumn, and
the deep orange lake
that buoys my joyous days
and comforts my dark nights.