Golden

On your way home,

on the wooded,

hidden path

to your door,

where flagstones jut,

tectonic,

you told me,

in that careless mess,

where that rod of re-bar

sprouts menacingly

for no reason,

you saw the sudden yellow

of an aspen leaf

fallen

in the last light,

indescribable.

Nonetheless, 

in your breathless,

in your silence,

that golden

I knew.