The teasing touch of fall's warmth lingering on into winter
You, crouching among the low, crisp carpet of leaves and the ground's yielding damp
A sliver of sun winds through your hair and drapes down over one eye like a twist of lemon peel as you peer out from the coarse lace of branches
Nothing but the trees, content and lazy at the close of this long day like old men in porch rockers, and the sharp bark of crows
You can sense his return, like a great unburdening, a peaceful sigh in the world
He furrows his brow, raises his nose to scent the air for you
You spring out from the brush, grab his ankle and hold tight