October already

I sit  here listening to my own voice these too-short
afternoons. Where has summer gone? The heron
stands reedy and still at the water’s edge. The canoe
is already on its rack beside the shed. Further
than Dickinson’s birds and still hoping for
what? Absurd to expect the seasons to transform us,
and yet each seems to end with the same sense
of loss. I search in rumpled wordbag and find
barely ghosts of breath. Last night’s storm
stripped some of the trees even before
they could find their true colors.

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2 Responses to October already

  1. Thank you for the poetry read at Fitchburg Art Museum in October. The evening was made stellar by your presence. Hope to spark some knew readers to your blog.

  2. That paean to October was utterly beautiful, Dan. Every word meant something.

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