Into October

On into October,

wood stove in use,

slowing way down,

along back roads,

the landscape exploding,

stopping,

to sing out in exuberant howling,

like a coyote or wolf,

giving voice to existence,

when all around,

October,

orchards radiating apple,

in every state of being,

still sun bathing,

freshly picked,

wind fallen,

into pie,

into cider,

mashed,

wasps descending onto brown fruit,

then chilled,

by north winds, 

our bones in trembling anticipation,

this is what we know,

October.

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