the tenth month
The Tenth month
What is there to say about
about a perfect day, the first of October
when the sun is infused with silver
A few cumuli look like a bride's belt
a sky that has pale blueness
bathed in the mystical haziness of dreams
The limitless seeking understanding
why oak leaves fall and grass takes
on the color auburn and lemon hue
In supple silence, I hear animals getting
ready for a white landscape, the long
rest before a new spring explodes
Do not sleep this day be aware, feel
the dust free air and nuanced harmony
of a moment that will not reappear
Copyright © Jan Hansen | Year Posted 2024
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