I Am October

I Am October

My head notes lead
like a picture postcard,
in flashes of red
sugar maple, gold
shagbark hickory.

Initial impressions,
oversized in mackerel
skies, give way to a heart
of first fires, threshing,
and winnowing.

I toss my gathering
from harvest cradle
to the breeze of gods,
like an old galosh
pulled from a pond.

Sad ellipsis, whose
black bile heightens
with time, like gypsy tears
in the steely steles
of Scioto fog.

Tess Kincaid

Posted over on her site Willow Manor
Listed as #2 in Magpie Tales 35