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

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