Ode to October

Ode to October

As I sit among the oaks

in the warm October sun

and the turning leaves twist and dance before me

out above the meadow

a lone, silky spider's thread

sails along a breeze,

visible only for a moment

in a crystal flash of sunlight.

Moss sways in trailing rivulets

like the dreadlocks of a forest nymph

matted with twigs and leaves

and soon to be dripping with winter's tears.

The last of the season's dragonflies hover and dart

and now in the sun's path,

hundreds of gleaming, powder-white objects swarm,

basking in the sun's cloak of radiance,

invisible just a moment before.

The scent in the shadowed places
reeks of summer's early morning,

Earth's own tangy sweetness

emanating from piles of warm, dying leaves

smelling of pumpkin and sawdust,

swimming holes and overturned earth.

A small plane overhead hums its nostalgic, rumbling tune

taking me back to my grandmother's garden

of spiny artichokes and pickling cucumbers.

In the kitchen, applesauce bubbling

frothy on the stove,

swelling the house

with its tempting sweet tartness.

A fire crackling

before the freshly-cleaned hearth,

sending billowy bands of sweetly charred, smoky resin

to fill the quiet neighborhood.

In summertime on this walk

I duck into shady dells

and avoid the benches

drenched in scorching sun.

Today, the shadows are cool and biting

and I search for sun-warmed rocks

while yellow jackets hover an inch from the ground

as if searching for lost change.

Red berries perch atop bare stems

amid tufts of dirty cotton balls.

Dying leaves bed the trail

and whisper to me as my feet drag them.

Small oak leaves flicker and twirl

madly, franticly to their deaths

while larger leaves drift in slow motion, silently,

gracefully to their own last bed of scented needles.

An elderly lady bug,

spots dimmed and fading,

climbs the mountain of my shoulder

and at the top takes flight.

Poem & photo~ Copyright: Kirsten Steen

Photo: Chartres Cathedral

Poem posted last February.