the autumn tide brings memory of warm and dark bodies in carnal debauchery
in the shadows the hunter watches the rustling of autumn leaves a ritual without language
calm and unhurried the weaver god floats down from the autumn moon on a silver strand
quiet the dwelling as bodies bare begin a ritual of belonging
skin is the script i choose to read from as touch ripples across the flesh
a dry leaf on an open path waits for the gentle breeze to guide it into the next phase of life
night learns tenderness but careful not to break its quiet trance
limbs uncoil and stretch the body remembers that somewhere beyond this concrete darkness is a gentle sun
old and kind as warmth threads through wood the mango tree shimmies a little to bless those below with peace and fruit
connection is made without sound as lips meet lips sealing a divine pact
elancharan gunasekaran 