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Dear October,


I woke up this morning having forgotten about you.

So, at six o’clock
gray morning
not being aware that it’s now ,officially, sweater weather,
and the meringue tips of leaves having somehow forgotten to remind me:
I said “hello”
to a September (tuesday)

No, October

I am not the only one to disappoint
there is you:

You. arrive late holding bundles (hope)
along with;
orange polyester
sweaters for trees
frost blankets, to welcome frozen nights
and the fruit brave enough
to cling to icicle branches and yellowed leaves
you have always brought hope:
Fed to aching souls
sweet sugar
Convincing: bitter mouthful
then: did you know?
Dear, lips are empty: tongue?
dry.
(hope) that is the cause of the foolish young believing :

knitted blankets and
apple cider
red. pottery. mugs.
leaf piles, bonfires
apple: pies and sauce
warm to serve blistering cold

maybe needing?

But, October.

you, somehow fool
me; every year

so, caught the
cream colored moth
drawn to fire this time
my wings will be just
enough, and flames? only flickering color ( after all )
but I know (now) there is thought.
hidden: dark corners and folds in cotton curtains: held
In mind, sheltered
concealed by hope; this thought:
to fall again and so:

I do, October
(I do)
only, it seems to be caught by
the lantern
that encouraged, again, my wings to burn

And that is why; October


I am writing you,

yes, I am writing you, even while you are here pressed
around me



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