Autumn Song (idea)

Two, in the far north
we drive well
against each other-
we drive well, against
this wind-
our shadow leaps,
falls between
grasses that cluster, brown
and thick before
each rusting post, turn
slowly gold as the sun
slides amongst them- your hair
too, as wind touches
my hands, holding
the door handle
instead-
snow falls
to the back of my tongue
when we breathe,
there is no heat
two small gray breaths
beyond the grass.