love of october


leaf2

A child looking at ruins grows younger
but cold and wants to wake to a new name
I have been younger in October
than in all the months of spring
walnut and may leaves the color
of shoulders at the end of summer
a month that has been to the mountain
and become light there
the long grass lies pointing uphill
even in death for a reason
that none of us knows
and laughs in the early shade now
come again shining glance in your good time
naked air late morning
my love is for lightness
of touch foot feather
the day is yet one more yellow leaf
and without turning I kiss the light
by an old well on the last of the month
gathering wild rose hips
in the sun.

~W. S. Merwin, The Love of October~

 

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One response to “love of october

  1. TELL me where is Fancy bred,
    Or in the heart or in the head?
    How begot, how nourished?
    Reply, reply.
    It is engender’d in the eyes,
    With gazing fed; and Fancy dies
    In the cradle where it lies.
    Let us all ring Fancy’s knell:
    I’ll begin it,–Ding, dong, bell.
    All. Ding, dong, bell.

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