The very air is amber to the touch. <br />Gnarled fingers trace the signature of warmth. <br />The slant of sun becomes significant. <br />Ribbons of west fall grosgrain on tin roofs. <br /> <br />You ask me once to catch a yellow leaf <br />And send it to you in an envelope. <br />I smile to think of such fragility. <br />The scent of autumn is the scent of light. <br /> <br />I think, my friend, the world is going down <br />Behind elegiac West Virginia hills. <br />An old tree whispers brightness to the dusk. <br />Our music runs like veins through all its leaves.<br /><br />Sandra Fowler<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-touch-of-amber/
