Sunday Morning

October.  Its brilliant festival of dry
and moist decay.  Its spicy, musky scent.
The church’s parking lot deserted
except for this one witness,
myself, just resting there.

Somewhere a radio plays Flamenco.
A spotlight of sunshine falls on the scattered debris.
Blood-red and gold, a perfect circle of leaves
begins to whirl,
slowly at first, keeping the pattern,
clicking against the blacktop
like heels and  castanets,
then faster, faster, faster. . .
round as a ruffle, as the swirling
skirts of an invisible dancer.
Swept off into the tangled woods
by the muscular breeze.
The hoarse cheering of crows.

Inside the dark empty church,
long cool shadows, white-painted wood,
austere Protestant candles thriftily snuffed,
Perhaps a note on the altar,
Gone dancing. Back on Sunday

~ Dolores Stewart, “Outside” from The Nature of Things 


Notes: Poem, Thank you Beyond The Fields We Know. Photo: Pixaby

Saturday Morning

I will cut adrift—

I will sit on pavements & drink coffee—

I will dream;

I will take my mind out of its iron cage & let it swim—this fine October.

— Virginia Woolf, from a diary entry c. Wednesday, October 15, 1927


Photo via 8tracks.com

Saturday Morning

october-fall-autumn-red-leaves

Let the eye enlarge
with all it beholds.

I want to celebrate color,
how one red leaf flickers
like a match held to a dry branch,
and the whole world goes up
in orange and gold.

~ Linda Pastan, from “Autumn” in Carnival Evening, New & Selected Poems 1968-1998

 


Notes: Poem Source: Thank you Beth @ Alive on All Channels. Photo: via The Sensual Starfish

 

 

 

Running. Everytime.

October, photography,

6:15 am.
I peek at the weather app before I step outside.
“34° F.   Feels like 26° F.  Partly Cloudy.”
Winter closing in.
I yank my Tuque over my ears.
I glance at the mirror.
The Black Avenger: Back for an encore.
Black Tuque. Black jacket. Black pants.
And Red Shoes.
Gangster.
I cue up my David Gray playlist.
Open the door.
And head to the street.

How often does it happen?
Just the right song cycles up.
65 David Gray songs resting.
Waiting for their turn.
And it pops up.

A bubbling geyser.
It starts slowly.
Starting from way down deep.
And surging upward.
No chemical inducements.
Adrenaline.
Miracle drug.


↓ click for audio (David Gray:  “Everytime”)

Down from the doorway
And into the street
I hear the morning bell
Over and over the pattern repeat
I hear the morning bell
And all the faces cold as stone
In the January chill

~ David Gray, Everytime [Read more…]

The air gold and so clean it quivers

autumn,fall,colors,photography

“I remember it as October days are always remembered, cloudless, maple-flavored, the air gold and so clean it quivers.”

~ Leif Enger, Peace Like a River 


“In 2002, Peace Like a River was a National Bestseller and hailed as one of the year’s top five novels by Time, and selected as one of the best books of the year by nearly all major newspapers.” If you haven’t read this wonderful book, it is worth your time. Find it here.


Credits: Thank you Dan @ Your Eyes Blaze Out for the quote. Photograph: micspics444 @ flicker.

If the sun were a tree

leaves, vase,light

If the sun were a tree
Its leaves would be this shining color
And they would drop
Over the toes of my boots
Ankle deep.
When I step
There would be the sound
Of light breaking.

— Tom Hennen


Credits: Poem via A Poet Reflects from Hennen’s closing lines to “Wild Aspen Leaves, October,” in Darkness Sticks to Evertything: Collected and New Poems (Copper Canyon Press, 2013); Image: Your Eyes Blaze Out via Elinka (Maple Leaf In Autumn Night)


Related Tom Hennen posts:


October 1

image


Source: everconstant via an-introspective-heart

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