Like a river rushing furiously forth Chasing the scarlet leaf that has just turned loose from its love I chase you, my love. But you, just like light, golden, spreading across the bough of pine needles clinging tight to branches entwined by the spider’s lacings, you dance and move about never resting in one place, impossible to catch. Yet you are ever delightful to chase. I press on, to you, uncertain of our end or our beginnings, yet chasing, pressing into light, glorious light, casting mysterious shadows at every weary turn. Waiting. Waiting for you to slow just enough that I may touch you, rest my gaze upon yours, to look into your soul, once more. Again.