PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

you wake up and it's october. the september days are yesterday. as grand as they were they have come and gone. the minutes grow shorter in daylight's count... all the more for the night... when you should be moving about.

throw open the door or even a window... get outside--now!-- however you can. the love affair begins. go on, does it not beckon? the smell of burning wood or leaves, irresistible. startling crunch the leaves talk this time of year, as in all other seasons. but mostly vocal in october, before the storms of winter do freeze their little souls of chlorophyll. crisping to blood red and hot oranges and dull but good for contrast browns... dancing if still on trees and imitating whirlwinds on the ground. dancing, dancing, the wind does harmonize. through hollows of trees old or scary, foreboding, warning the saplings that they must be strong to survive as many winters.

the wind's morse code is extremely vague, an expert it takes not to decode. an amateur who's willing can get the message, sometimes urgent, sometimes only for a lark... the brazen wind does carry on so. occasionally getting snarky it will pretend for december's sake, tricking you perhaps into retreating inside. but no... don't go, stay out before it snows.

if you stay, which is advised, you may hear nature's secrets floating about. autumn. closing up shop for a bit. the final prep work draws near. but first we must indulge our guests. who knows who will appear for the end of the month celebration? they must have a proper dancing floor--of leaves and twigs galore. trees bare for animals to mingle in... spiders waiting in the wings... you will not know they are present... fret not.

and stay, stay, the celebration draws near...