Like an elf she had sprung, sprightly and swift
And hid herself behind the
trees
As she took off, it is her breath that I whiffed
and then felt my own freeze
But it's not for her affection that I've yearned
but rather for the
night when leaves had burned
and their scent mingled with grass and melting snow
as I watched their bodies in the fire's ambers glow
A yellowish outline of trees by the distant fire sketched
Distracted from the sky's dark blue gaze
My poor feet were from the puddles wet
By the time I had reached her secret place
With icicles on her
coat, breathing towards my nose
with winter's glacial yet refreshing breath
Her bare legs were mired in moist and nascent
grass
And from their surface a salty, seaweed aura rose
But really is there something fleeting
that a simple encounter receives
from an ordinary meeting
of melting snow, wet grass, and burning
leaves?
Our soaking coats by the smoke fumed,
Shoulder to
shoulder by the fire we sat,
and the timid
flame, by our vicious
eyes fed,
drew courage and consumed
a pile of dry leaves purple and red
As we watched the charred remains in the fire turn
the separate pieces in one mixture and
powder collected
The action of grinding and mingling was by our minds reflected
And out of jumbled imaginings were vivid fantasies born