October Blue Poem by Any Brookes

There is no simple arc from A to B,
the variables are too acute.
feelings that lie dormant,
struggle innate guarded suppression.
Here comes October with its regularity,
putting me out of sorts.

I am a divided soul,
hate its sombre clouds, its nipping frosts. 
yet bright limned against the sky,
leaves dance on orange flamed trees,
as if dressed for an Autumn Ball. 
or berried with bright fruits
hanging from dark latticed branches.
some stand stark naked ready for Winter sleep,
They feed into my melancholy,
tearing at my psyche. 

the fields of dark ploughed earth
reminds me of other earth,
dug new and fresh in an October passed,
which lies now greened over.
here you lie, if at rest,
only God, if he exists, knows,
I hedge my bets on that score.

The pain, a darkly focused lens,
a lance sharp and hot.
Which now passes quickly,
back into the humming back-ground,
always there, yet now a subdued ache.

The anniversary is now a time of laughter,
tears, good friends and food.
mellow with wine we toast your memory and I find,
Hard as it is, a content,
a settlement with the past.