LATE OCTOBER

It's late in the month and I can feel, in the wind, a hint of what November might be like.  Having had no rain for months, but constantly being promised rain, we no longer believe the weathermen and women in their constant jumble of words.  Instead, turn to the truth of poetry and relish these last days of warmth and sun...and maybe a bit of wind blowing the last poor leaves off the trees (that, having no moisture, did not put on much of a fall show this year).


From one of my favorite poets...

October

by Robert Frost


O hushed October morning mild,
Thy leaves have ripened to the fall;
To-morrow's wind, if it be wild,
Should waste them all.


The crows above the forest call;
To-morrow they may form and go.
O hushed October morning mild,
Begin the hours of this day slow,


Make the day seem to us less brief.
Hearts not averse to being beguiled,
Beguile us in the way you know;
Release one leaf at break of day;
At noon release another leaf;


One from our trees, one far away;
Retard the sun with gentle mist;
Enchant the land with amethyst.
Slow, slow!


For the grapes' sake, if they were all,
Whose leaves already are burnt with frost,
Whose clustered fruit must else be lost—
For the grapes' sake along the wall.