October – A poem


October – October

The winds which whip

have a different flavor.

A taste, sweet

and fervent as a

caramel apple when

first bitten into.

The night shrouds more

treasures, unspoken

in shadows but implied

deep in your soul familiar

with such darkness.

Colors abound and break and burst,

escaping their confines of

staleness and tepid tones.

Never has this world been more alive,

more robust,

more rambling,

and shambling to and fro.

Unbounded and limitless

in scope and measure.

This time is the great mystery

come to call.

To hold magic in your hands

if only for the briefest instant

Until it finally

fades

away.

 

by Philip Wardlow 2014

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