October

OCTOBER eats into a wrist and trails
Sweet density of mist where autumn makes
Clean the wide fields and of an evening shakes
Down the fond petals. In my heart prevails
That relish of chrysanthemums which slakes
My sapid humors stubborn to let go
The lilt of gold branches and the glow
Of tempered evening. Soon, when evening breaks
In sudden shrillness, bitter winds will blow.
Earth waiting on the turn, the waiting bone
Will greet the season, having lived and known
Increase which only soil and body know.
Darkly the river leans upon the stone
Which breaks or yields the courses of its flow.