Enchanted

The enchantress lifts her skirts,
and twirls a dance.

Oranges, golds, sepias and crimsons
spiral out of her center,
sailing into the sky.

Fluttering pieces of gold.
land in the eaves
Of the gutter.

They glisten with the wetness of dew,
inviting me into a revelry
of fascination.

She breathes with a sigh,
sometimes a howl chilling my soul,
and then a whisper
as she winds her way though my life.

Mesmerized, I am lost in the changes,
which shift into cold chills of winter.

With a flounce of delight,
the flirting continues
as she dances into the night.

Kay Ekwall
©2002