I am haunted by calls from this here piece of the internet to get back on. I have several things bouncing around my noggin', and they will be put in to 1's and 0's very soon.
Until then, a poem by R.G. Bell:
See October
Sheets of crystal on morning grass,
Flannel shirts the color of leaves,
Sweaters the color of corn and pumpkin,
Wooly worms crossing the road,
Furry forecasters of a hard winter.
Hear October
Groans of hard men hauling hay,
Muffled report of rifles in woods,
Chainsaw promising winter heat,
Boughs breaking with weight of fruit,
Ripe prophets of a hard winter.
Smell October.
Smoke of leaves, oak, maple, tobacco,
Steams of soup, coffee, stew,
School bus fumes and Russian tea,
Whiff of cold in northern wind,
Clean composer of a hard winter.
Feel October.
Weight of first blanket on the bed,
Distant warmth of retreating sun,
Thickening fur on an outdoor dog,
Firmness growing in the ground,
Heavy harbinger of a hard winter.
Taste October.
Apples, crackers and sharp gold cheese,
Last grilled hamburger of the season,
Farm-ground sausage, pepper-laced,
Warm yeast bread from an old recipe,
Sure sustainer through a hard winter.
Come October!
Bring the security of a hay-filled barn,
A warming fire and goal made real.
Crown the end of a summer's work
With needs well met and hopes fulfilled
To carry us through a hard winter.
No comments:
Post a Comment