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Post Road Magazine #32

Newly Met

April Ossmann

If I told you
I saw your soul,
would you judge me
inappropriate,
too intimate
for comfort―
or disbelieve me?
If you asked
for a description,
would I admit
you glowed, golden
as these late
northern afternoons,
whose slanted autumn light
makes green fire
of a backlit tree's
shimmering leaves,
and balances
me perfectly,
on the tightrope
between yearning
and content,
as if I finally understood
what beauty meant
to tell me?



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