Fall


My favorite season debuts again.

My soul begins to feel lighter,

and memories flood forward.
 

I remember…

walks on cool mornings,

homecoming with my sister and I

in matching orange & blue sweaters,

smiling pumpkins shining from a front tree,

evening drives with the top down and

the swirling cool air danced to the beat of

my favorite song.
 

Memories stir a deep desire to celebrate

with an old friend I meet every year.

I want to be with her again…

Doing cartwheels on her freshcut lawn,

giggling like a child,

running through her fall-colored woods,

picking only the most brilliant leaves

to press somewhere between the pages of

Camden and Acadia.

Looking for the one solid rock

on a path framed by lobster traps

and lit by the fading sun.

Eating homemade ice cream

given by a distant brother,

while wearing a borrowed denim shirt,

sleeping on the foldout couch

to be closer to the fire.
 

Unprepared for an early snow,

hiking in knee-deep powder with bare

ankles,

proof that streaks of naivete still exist

in the reasoning of a southern girl,

beginning to get a little scared

as the sun sets with miles to go,

yet the happiest pictures of me unfold…

on the top of Jasper Ridge.

The brilliance of a happy soul shines

through,

captured for eternity in an album

treasured by my lover.
 

Last year came and went without her.

Without me.

No time to play.

I wait.

Another year is finally here.

Another white pin?

Now choosing to miss her or miss him.

Coupled years of distance

increase my longing for her warmth.

Will she and I create memories

now only known to me?

Will they be just as cherished

as those I shared with another?
 

Does seeing the reflection of my joy

truly amplify it …

the single look that says I was there,

with you,

and I remember,

and it really was extraordinary.
 

Why do I travel a thousand miles to

witness her yearly show?

Is it a well worn prop I use,

unable to unleash the passion

that already exists inside my soul

without seeing the color of the leaves to

prompt my memory of who I was,

and who I will be again?

Can I travel a thousand thoughts,

using words not distance

to uncover the key

that unlocks my own personal light,

the one that is uniquely mine,

but conceived for me to share?
 

How do I find the aura created there…

two sincere souls

risking

laughing

thoughts never said before,

or again.

A simple time

with no interruptions.

Somewhere away from

overburdening deadlines

and without paper tigers to tame.

Am I really missing her

or missing the carefree version of us

found under autumn trees

planted so far from here?
 
 

Priscilla Wise
August 31, 1997

 http://priscillawise.com

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