Winter's Harvest

You were that long, gentle August
That planted its forest seeds
In the hearts of the leaves.

You were that crepuscular dawn
Submerging me in waves
Of stubborn, wild berries.

Summer’s sweetest drought coursed
Through the grapevines of your arms,
Silent cornucopias that shudder beneath my lips.

This falling and awakening
Encircles us in a dream,
Of pleasures postponed,
Our winter’s harvest.