October is my favorite month
after September, until
it is November, which then
becomes my favorite month
before December. Then,
January changes everything and
I begin to dread July—
Which is when I start to yearn
for October again and
I look at the calendar and
I’m fixin’ to bitch about
the miserable Texas heat,
When my wife asks me where
I would like to go and
I answer, anywhere with
air conditioning, or where
it is October and she says,
it’s October now and
91 degrees outside.
I decide to go look
at the thermostat and to
think about Thanksgiving,
a good economy, and global
warming. She refuses to
live where it is cold.
Look both ways, but time is unidirectional
and never stops, until it does.
Gaps in time are cosmic to the mind.
Hello, October; goodbye September for another year. For some of us, the march of time is the welcome process of growing up, while others (like me) are alarmed by rapidly advancing days.
Where I live, this year’s September had more days over 100 degrees Fahrenheit than ever, by a large number. Technically, it’s now Autumn. Climatologically, it’s not even close. And some rain, please! (Welcome to Texas)
Personally, it has been a difficult and challenging month for me with family issues demanding my attention and needing my practical and emotional participation. Some of that drama, fear, and heartache are rolled into my poems. But not as much as I would have expected. I did not like the shit storms at all, but I was grateful for the emotional fodder. For me, this is often less craft and more about the art of breaking things. I do like the feeling of being useful and having a purpose.
Thirty days hath September and I wrote 30 more poems. I wrote more on some days because when Muse speaks, I write, but those extras don’t count for the dailies. The titles of the daily poems were:
- Sit on my lap Forever
- Disrespectful Dress
- See Bugs Try
- When It’s Real
- Sometimes, It is Something
- Sit Up
- Monet at Kimbell
- Pissing Inappropriately
- Boys Only
- Watching the World go by (standing by a busy interstate highway)
- Pat’s Day
- Old Hank
- The Genocide of Humanity
- Those Tears Count
- Longer Nights
- Bureaucratic Control
- Skinny Short People
- Best and Worst
- Under the Red Veil
- So They Say
- Global Baking
- No Innocents
- The Young Turks
- Good Enough
- The Ultimate Ultimatum
- Prim’s not Proper
- My Coffee
Look both ways, but what matters most is that it is officially Fall,
the third season. A beautifully decorative time of year.
While we should always mind the gaps, we should also enjoy the time.
I hear the soft sounds of eventide’s song,
as it sings the transition of day into night –
of colorful gloamings where wonders belong,
while whispering air adds drama to sight.
Night birds respond by taking to flight
before today wrings darkness from light
The darts and the dives of the soaring black kite,
mixing their trills, flying into the night.
The sky-blue sunset is dotted with cloud,
as the stars drag the moon into the shroud,
where red and orange, and some yellow are glowing.
Adieu to the light as darkness keeps growing.
As the swift and the nightjar sing
songs that awaken
the owl tonight, a night yet to come.
From this part of life is another day taken,
and as humans will be,
by this darkness we’re shaken.
I feel the call of a long restful sleep
as evening pleasures promise to keep.
Remember this day as something we’ll miss.
Lie with me Love and share this sweet bliss.
©Bill Reynolds 10/12/2018
Look both ways into the night and the day,
mind all these gaps in a special way.