October 27 [Book of October]

October 27

Before the soft rain the leaves
Finally sing their groundswell chant

They who met the sun first each day
Now embracing the earth without regret

Walking through the leaves releases
Whispers of crisp wishes burning

The air we breathe is on fire with wishes
The soft rain gathers in the branches

Overhead, hovers, a dark respectful canopy.
It’s not used to going any farther but where

Are the hands that caught it so easily
And sent it to the center of things

October 25 [Book of October]

October 25

They have argued before: now heart
And mind walk hand in hand,

In the skunkworks of autumn,
Where the moon’s rise and fall

Is one heartbeat charted
On the night’s sheet.

It moves with such patience
We almost think our dreams

And our days are walking with us
And not staring as we pass by.

October 23 [Book of October]

October 23

This time the sunset moves closer
To the sunrise before it the west coast

Closer to the east it seems the leaves
Collect the sunset’s color and bring

The sky closer to the ground
Our past and future closer all this

Memory for us each to read through
the long night and the cold winter

October 22 [Book of October]

October 22

Morning after the rain the creek
Brags its long story.

The breeze picks up
The chatter of leaves.

The maple shrugs about it
But in months to come it will

Shoulder a strongman’s
Burden of snow and ice.

My children race around
The trunk chasing the leaves that

whittle the air unpredictably
On their way to the ground

Sketching out for them their
Invisible future

One day they too will fall
Away from the family tree

Who will be running to catch
Them I wonder

October 21 [Book of October]

October 21

After the storm moves past
I once again hear the humming

Of a distant machine.

After dark when most lights are out
When I realize the sound has been gone

For awhile I get dressed and head out.
At the pick-up spot I find the pile waiting.

I wrap each individual dream in the clear
Plastic of day residue and check my list,

Add the special insert of coincidence
And start walking. As each doorstep

Appears through the fog I throw with
Unerring accuracy and the dream lands

On the porch because everybody’s dream
House has a front porch. Occasionally

I overthrow and the dream clatters
Against a loose screen door.

Upstairs a light comes on and the shadow
Of your face looks down on me

And I know for a searing instant you see
Me and know what’s being delivered

Like when you have a dream of a dream.
Whether or not I know you now,

Or ever met you, doesn’t matter.
This list is never wrong. On

The way home I pass others like me
Delivering memories of themselves

But by the time I get home I can only

Think about climbing into bed, forgetful.
Just as I’m drifting off, I hear a late model

Car prattle up my street and the sound
Of tomorrow’s papers hitting porches

Across the street although there are no houses
Across the street, just a park by the library.

And although I don’t get up I can almost feel
Someone standing on the sidewalk, who climbed

Out of their car over the pile of papers on
Their front seat, to see who might look down at them.