Walking across scattered pages,
I hear the rustle of fallen leaves,
Glimpses of diaried days and handwritten weeks,
Calendar months torn until the fall,
Pages left to read the months past
With years drifting in the October wind.
I climb thru the trees along the ridge,
Surrounded by gold and bronze-
Iron cold days ahead
Soon wreathed in silver and faded memories.
Autumn has come to the woods
And autumn has come to me.
One of my favorite seasons of the year, along with spring. Once again your poetry contours up pleasant memories and some of my own poetry about autumn.
Thank you. I love autumn here in the Ozarks – October is usually the most beautiful month of the year.
Love! And I love October.
I like the image of calendar months torn off until fall. Nice October poem.
Oh this is a wonderful poem! I love the “diaried days and handwritten weeks,” the “years drifting in the October wind”, and your poignant closing lines. Loved it.
There ought to be a word that means both melancholy and peaceful… what a lovely write 🙂