I Always Loved The Time Of Year
I ALWAYS LOVED THE TIME OF YEAR
I always loved the time of year
Long before that perfect day
It was a perfect morning
The best of autumn
The sky the clearest blue
The air crisp and clean
The last remnants of mist
Burnt away by the rising watery sun
And there she stood
As if to improve on nature itself
A vision of perfection
Standing at the edge of the woods
From beneath her woolen hat
Flaming red hair fell
Then danced upon her shoulders
And caught on her scarf
Breath plumed from her smiling mouth
As she spoke to her dog
Then she began to walk
The hem of her long coat swung
With the rhythm of her hips
As she strode into the woods
The spaniel chasing a stick she had thrown
Her boots crunching leaves underfoot
Still crisp with frost
Where the sun hadn’t reached
“Come on Jimbo” I said
Letting the dog out of the car
And we followed her into the wood
I walked amidst the skeletal trees
Where Squirrels ran here and there
Still busily preparing for winter
I kicked through the carpet of leaves
Feeling like a schoolboy again
And birds settled in my wake
Feeding on insects in the disturbance
In a clearing I saw her again
Her red hair like fire
Illuminated in the sunlight
The dogs soon introduced each other
And we did also
Two dog lovers talking in a wood
Two people who would become lovers
Who both loved the time of year
