The rock bottom of October will never see the colors of bright greens of the trees and the colors of the rainbow from freshly picked flowers on an early Spring afternoon—

but it will see stars, sounding like a silver wind chime, every time it twinkles.

We gaze at the trees, watching the wind pull the last of the chestnut and burgundy leaves off.  

October will never be at the center of boredom of Summer—

where we are in serene meadows of freshly cut grass that reach the valleys.

But will the touch the tips of Winter—

with every sculpted snowflake made for the cool and red nosed weather.

The rock bottom of October will never see us enjoy the fresh, warm air that July brings—

but will see the white of winter moving in a ghost-like fashion, lingering, unnoticed.

When we lie on the crisp and crunchy leaves of Fall and see carved jack o'lanterns and children dressed in costumes of dancing ballerinas and authority figures.

But October shows mischief among children as well—

with destroyed pumpkin patches and candy wrappers flooding the street.

Day in and day out, we smell the same sweet things all season long—

like cinnamon apple cider, and fans cheering in the stands of crowded football games.

The rock bottom of October will never see the newly grown harvests filled with the pleasurable scent of ruby red strawberries and ripe tomatoes—

but it will see dying herbs from the abiding frost that follows before Winter, where the earth’s natural resources expire, until the next year, when flowers bloom once again.