Deft fingers sketch the ever falling sun, br Paint good-bye on the lens of imagery. br West fades across a field of goldenrod. br Amber is warm elegiac to the touch. br br Shadows become a landscapes final gift. br You tell me so with your eloquent eyes. br One need not speak to be articulate. br I hear what you could never say aloud. br br Above our heads, sky is autumn enhanced. br I think it is a masterpiece in gray. br You wrap your arms around me like a coat. br And so we stand immersed in light's ebb tide.