Fall Calendar Poems

September lingers in the arms of love
Even as a certain crispness calls.
Perhaps some fear she's not yet conscious of
Takes messages as she her pleasure stalls,
Embracing what must bleed, as from a wound.
More frequently, she starts to feel marooned.
Business bustles busily with tasks,
Each answering more questions than it asks,
Reminding her how life must be consumed.

October is self-confident and strong,
Crisp and ready for the captious wind.
Though life lies less ahead and more behind,
Old age has barely bonneted the bones.
Beauty so outrageous can't be wrong,
Even as death steals among the stones,
Resting where the leaves lie battered, blind.

November knows the beauty of a line:
One stroke across the heart of a gray sky.
Vacancy is where true vision lies,
Eternity redacted into time.
Memory now moves into the garden,
Bringing with it music never heard.
Each slender, naked branch is like a word
Recalling the lost happiness of Eden.