And...

She is falling.
She doesn't know why, it simply just so.
That he is in the sky, the trees, the blossoms exploding in this Indian summer; in the air, the light, the gleam of this bright moon. He is made of tainted glass; every color of the rainbow, peach cake and cherry liqueur.

But mostly, he has a feeling of coming home; and leaves one single word echoing through this crisp night when he lets go of her hand....

Yes.

Nick Drake – Northern Sky