Tag Archives: september

September 30 [Book of October]

September 30

We know what the year’s worth
Like we know a coin from its size in our palm.

The month’s full moon. A gumball in a gumball machine.
And once in awhile, two slip out at once

Into your hands. When did the fall’s first
Cold night become a harbinger for a life

Shifting seasons? I look out there:
Not a leaf has left me. Still, if what’s ahead

Is more than loose change, you’re going
To have to get a lot closer to keep

Us both warm with what’s coming.

Looking Backward Across an Early September Day

Looking Backward Across an Early September Day

Geese evacuate beneath the moon’s thin retraction
Trees are whispering their new addresses to each other

and now the houses breathe without coughing
I shrug free and share the sigh of open windows

In the blue morning the sky’s a cut-out
key unlocking summer’s heavy stockade

When the world was upside down
you fell into my arms and I woke

Driving Through A Small Town Full of Churches on a Friday Around Dusk

Driving Through A Small Town Full of Churches on a Friday Around Dusk

 

The buildings vibrate like an old color
postcard whose message has faded

time lifting the letters off the back
one dark bit after the other

which now gather wordless on the horizon
rising without a message to take back

the sky which for a moment shows red
through the church steeples with no bells

At the Overlook on Afton Mountain, Last Morning of September

cloud sea

At the Overlook on Afton Mountain, Last Morning of September

Cloud Ocean lays over the valley as an unnamed sea
did before names, only the southern peaks

visible like islands in the distance. Clouds crash
into a coast of trees and in the slow motion violence of

white spray rising I sway unsteadily
on top of 400 million years of unmoving rock

cloud sea spray noir

 

 

Outside My Window, Last Night of September

Outside My Window, Last Night of September

 

So quiet except for fall crickets hanging on
In the rectangle of black behind the screen

I hear the soft pattering of rain and lean over the sill
and see two moths, brown like faded leaves

beating forgotten wings against a night full of stars

Tea Ceremonies

Tea Ceremonies

 

Maybe aged twelve, I started staying up past 11
watching the local news with my dad
cup of tea and the Yankees score the daily last things

Tea that late never kept me awake
it was for time with my father
and learning tomorrow’s weather

In my dorm at college it attracted curiosity
people started coming to my room at eleven
arriving with mugs steaming coming to see the day done

One winter night we took it outside
into the courtyard in a snow flurry
three dozen students in flannel

pajamas sweatpants boots and mugs
spelling out T-E-A in giant letters
not a protest just a confirmation

atypical for that time and age
Tonight we talk after the kids are asleep
while you bathe I make you tea

which we take upstairs to our room
where last night a strange green insect
watched me from the windowsill

while I drank tea and wrote
about a dream and slept by you
awoke to today an empty cup to fill