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In places the road up is bare where winds
have swept clear the leaves. Up and out along
the wood's edge, pumpkins nestle into skewed
fodder shocks. Ahead, she cartwheels, legs pink
in the frost-tinged air. I stand, burning-faced
and powerless against this alien force
that pulls me into its whirling vortex
as might the wind a red leaf in its swirl.
She stops, beads of tiny crushed diamonds
glisten above her lips. "Do this." She juts
her pelvis outward, stares dreamy-eyed down.
In slow motion, she reaches down, squeezes
hard. Then quickly turning and bolting back
up the mountain road, she disappears.
From above, laughter as bright and chilling
as an assailant's arrows, sting, diminish.
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