Red and gold fall. My goodness, how they dance, teasingly bumping on their slow descent. 

They touch the ground as bodies, falling into each other’s arms. No wonder they crave closeness after their detached summer existence. 

The developing wind masks their cries as two become one in autumn’s sexiest display of fire. They fiercely love and imprint upon the earth; the evidence of their passion seeps into the soil. 

Winter twitches, watching them. Frost is an impatient twat, but Snow, beautiful Snow, sweetly gives the lovers more time before covering them up.

Then, they’re buried together as lovers should be.