October’s Memory
There was a time…
I had but an ant as company
Or the occasional pigeon on the windowsill
Those were my thinking partners
While others had crucifixes above beds
Paintings of saint on the walls
Some conversing with the heavens
October days…
During the fall,
Winter always hesitated
At times at the door
For he obviously felt all alone
As leaves had been falling slowly
And morning frost had been slow to come
Leaving him unable to be who he was
Just waiting in the wings
For his entrance
He retraced his steps often
As latter days of the month
Seem unwilling to give in to fall
Then…
November arrived
Reminding him that time was getting shorter
His breath became the temperature he likes
The ground began to harden
High above
Clouds thickened
With one sweeping gesture
The sky opened up
The air agreed
Winter’s premature impatience
Descended its trademark of white
Gently to the ground
Coating the streets
And park with magic
The preview of full-blown winter around the corner
October nodded
Packed up for its vacation
And wished fall’s November luck
And me…
There was truly something about leaving the first footprints in the snow
Discovery?
Evidence you exist?
Thankfulness for the ant
The pigeons
The company one can have
Or
Imagine
To stay prepared
For another endurable period of aloneness
Knowing a best friend always shows up…
Spring was just down the road a ways
Every poem I read about fall, makes me wish, from my summer sliding into winter location close to the tropics, that fall only shows itself in a few places and then, sometimes, erroringly dips into winter with an increasing vengeance.
Ron
Those odd or imaginary friends are the best kind - They never let anyone down x