October
The electric blueness of skies, where
whitewashed clouds with golden
edges heel like ships before a storm
as they sail across the infinite cerulean sea,
sends forth a bright burst of energy.
Washed shirts and sheets on the line
crack and snap like gun shots or whips
with a freshening breeze from the North,
all nature suddenly more alive.
Crimson and yellow leaves shimmy
and shake, then fall, dancing in the air
until they end up in leaf-jumping piles
where children with apple-red cheeks
bury themselves and pop out, calling
“Boo” with shouts and laughter.
October, the feast of the seasons,
sounds crispy as a ginger cookie,
smells of jam bubbling on the stove
tastes of apple pie and cinnamon, and
looks like pumpkins with lighted faces.
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