M'Appari

There is an earthy romance of song in early autumn’s golden hour,

glow light plays with whim and sigh of wisp on edge of green,

memory of summer past, his open window bourn soar,

of aria, perfect,

curing hearts and curling leaves to vibrant russet ribbons.

It perched among heavy berried branch, hopped to every twig

to carry tale of his love for my mother.

I hear you still, your voice swells in open and close of seasonal breath,

the promise of warmth again,: She hears it too and it wraps her mind,

a glimmer against coming dark.