Secret Vespers

In the place I want to find, the autumn never ends. The leaves don’t fall but float, and every time we kiss, a green leaf turns to orange.

In a secret field, you will run up to a scarecrow. It will lift its pumpkin head and rake us free a tunnel through the sky. The leaves will be firm enough to stand on.

When you stand in front of me and sing I can hear your voice behind me.

I want to find the end of this world, the dome that has enclosed us, but our scarecrow, with straw dropping out from between his buttons, is no help, he sleeps, slumped against his rake. I ask you, but you touch a finger to my lip. I wonder if your eyes have always looked like this.

There is nothing left to say. The autumn never ends, and perhaps I should be concerned about how many leaves remain, but there are no question marks to ask with, only songs.