Ode to my own

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             20 OCT poem              

I'm in every leaf of grass

and every fleck of dust

I'm each inch of this ground

worm or ant

calm or loud

I'm those million tears of sky

breaking down

a starry night

I'm the moth around each flame

and the outrageous of her blame

I'm the sister of Great Oak

filled with berries, roots and cold

Flume or river

  flash or thunder 

there's no force that brings me under

I'm in wind

that wilder blows

out of memories

and words   

                                       .F

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October: be mine

The Autumn Skies are flush'd with Gold

And fair and bright the Rivers run;

These are but streams of Winter Cold,

And painted mists that quench the Sun.

In secret boughs no sweet birds sing,

In secret boughs no bird can shroud;

These are but Leaves that take to wing,

And Wintry Winds that pipe so loud.

'Tis not trees shade, but cloudy glooms

That on the Cheerless Vallies fall,

The Flowers are in their grassy tombs,

And Tears of Dew are on them all.

- Thomas Hood -