Homes so recently abandoned
for Sunday swims and picnics
Have become indoor respites
from the restless chill of change.
Secure, still days have vanished
with hazy meadows humming.
Fireflies have met their end,
replaced with jack-o'lanterns.
Now forewarning breezes,
stealthy, crisp, and vibrant,
uncovering reckless impulses.
Now uncanny images,
voices of chance and charm,
Bide their ghostly time,
to tease mortals hitherto content.
Darts and dashes of circumstance,
figures of flitting moments,
Are creatures mysteriously born,
skipping towards certain death.
So what, if the end is approaching;
the witches' brew is bubbling-
The whispers of all moans and laughs,
The collage of dreams and desires.
Now is the ecstasy of flinging
one's fate to the unrefined choir-
The discordant sounds and initiatives
of many spirits and springs.
Grinning gourds and goblins
bless this annual surprise-
This primal burst of forces
Which refuse once more to be quenched.
Comments about this poem (October Fest by Carol Mays )
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