november has been stubborn
with its lingering warmth

its slow turn to redyelloworange
and so i have arrived late

to an appreciation of the ginko leaf
autumn demands

and clamors for color
fancily dances its displays

of spark
and flame

but only now do i humbly behold
its green to gold

it’s perfect fans feathered
slipping free

and sliding silently
before finally settling

upon the ground


should you seek           inspiration
should you need          evidence of prayer

asked
and answered

here it is

what makes the music so?

what sets a sound inward
or outward?

what lifts the notes
from the page?

are you a voice
an instrument
in between the silences?

what does the bell
of life
ring for you?

the sun strikes
the first october notes

and embers
everything into color

the wind unravels
the leaves

they spin
and crackle within

soon
all will be raked grey

as winter waits
a world away

it has been grey for days
the crack

and scatter
of a concrete sky

the brittle air
the rubble

and rub
that dulls everything

beautiful bird
beware of things

that clip
and cut your wings

there
there it is

that clip of wind
a smoother edge to the air

the braided fade the sky now holds
the ginko nuts are beginning to fall

their yellow leaves will soon follow
there is a silence to the stones

a quiet to the clouds
the birds sense it

and theirs is now a new arrangement of music
colors slowly carousel into corners

the clock has turned
and returned everything

sometimes when i miss my mother
i feel for the pulse on the wrist of my wife
hers is steady and strong
  
waiting there
as my mother slowly slipped away
a nurse taught me how to find the pulse

in her final moments
when she stopped breathing
her heart ceased beating
and her pulse faded away
i felt it in my fingertips

so now

sometimes when i miss my mother
i feel for the pulse on the wrist of my wife
hers is steady and strong  
and i know exactly where to find it

october is my youngest month
i fly a thousand kites of color

i fill the sky in great spills of paint
i breathe as if for the very first time

my child heart beats in time
with the wings of birds now arrowing south

my hands dig deeply into the open pumpkin
and my soul glows like a votive candle

pushing light gently out