Tag: poem

October: When to Worry

Today you would not write lines
on October like the musings 
from your teenage brain. 
You said the rosy sky was afire
and the smoky air was sad. 
You smelled leaf rot (deep in your soul).
You marveled at pearly dew sparkling in morning sunlight 
because that’s what dew does,
and that’s what a boy writes  
the day he knows October.  
He’s learning to write October.

It’s time to worry
when you see brown.  
When you hear “the terminal sound 
of apples dropping on the dry ground.”  
You’re going south the day you see geese flee, sunlight fail, green grind down. 
You’ve got bigger problems
than gray wind and dry rosehips.  

You’ve pulled out of your dive the day brown becomes cinnamon,
when October nods, slips into red, and Autumn creeps. 
You’ve turned the corner the moment you see
Summer pause on sunlit hill,
weep, and move on.