At the End of This Summer by John Haines

I wonder if I frightened you,
Coming as I did from behind
As you sat alone in your chair
With the low sun melting over your head.
I couldn't imagine what you were
Looking at or thinking of--
You who have always been so lively
And little given to quiet--
And the desire to bend and kiss your hair
Was almost unbearable.
You turned,
With that air of half-astonishment
You use so well, I smiled a greeting.

After that, we sat and talked for a while
And enjoyed the departing light.
Then the warmth was gone,
And we rose, I to take my leave, and you
To close the door and pull the shade,
And turn to the lighting of a lamp,
The starting of a fire in the stove.