Come October

Come October


Come October, I seem, always,
to be meeting my self again,
as if I’ve been away


or forgotten
to look up for a very
long while until


Light! Oh, light!
that honeyed, autumn light
drips a long, low nod


across the southern sky,
catches my breath
and holds it


until I return, fully, to this body,
eyes open and still
enough to see


the luminous leaves of this golden ash,
the soft–shouldered waltz of the mourning doves,
the view from these eyes, this moment.


3 thoughts on “Come October”

  1. wonderous and full of meaning knowing that you are waltzing softy across the skies

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