27 October 2014

A Poem in October



October here is not the October of my youth,
days remain warm even while nights cool,
sun invites final days of outside dining,
children catch last hours of outdoor play.

Grapes, harvested in great trucks, are pressed
and judgements made on the stamp this year's weather,
vines are cut back to trunk, ground tidied for the coming year,
all focus is now on making wine with the year's distinctive vintage.

Olives, coaxed from generations old trees, spill on the ground
to be scooped into burlap bags and quickly pressed for oil,
shared with pickers, family and friends before sale of all excess,
pruned branches burn in fields and scent the air with turf- like smells.

Octobers of my youth were things of color,
an extravaganza of New England fall colors,
New England at its best, a lavish 
showiness of reds, yellows, oranges, fuchsia,

the abandonment of Pilgrim reserve to flaunt a ruckus of color,
whole mountainsides wild with flamboyant spectacle,
the boisterous rave of hills doubled in reflective lakes,
even small ponds mirrored the elaborate abundance of color

to dazzle us before the bare thickets of winter appeared,
fallen leaves filled yards, got pressed to preserve color
against the black and white of winter,
were fingered while lingering in front of winter fires.


Posted for Open Link Monday with Magaly at Imaginary Garden with Real Toads and prompted by Kerry's earlier encouragement to read Dylan Thomas's  Poem in October
I took the photo in New Hampshire.


14 comments:

  1. I like the way you describe the different aspects of October ..a lot of sense involved here..

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  2. What a beautiful picture and lovely poem. I have to say that I sense a prejudice in favor of New England's beauty. But October in Italy sounds pretty darn good also--you describe it vividly; thanks! k.

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    1. New England is in my DNA. But it's a whole other beauty here.

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  3. It is a season worthy of poems and memories. What a fascinating thing it is to compare October where you are now with where you grew up. I especially like your final stanza and the thought of preserving color for the bleak winter, although winter fires will bring it back.

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    1. I hadn't thought of the fire recalling the fall colors but it certainly does.

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  4. What a wonderful life you live, to experience the seasons in such diversity. And what a wonderful way of sharing your experiences, this poem.

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    1. I'm grateful for my life. It feels rich.

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  5. The line "whole mountainsides wild with flamboyant spectacle" is fantastic. What a perfect way to describe autumn leaves.

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    1. When I was driving in New Hampshire, Mt. Chocura was just such a spectacle.

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  6. Such a wonderful contrast here, each description offers some point of interest for the mind's eye.

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    1. Thanks, Kerry. I found your students poetry wonderful and one of them inspired my next poem.

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  7. Reading this is like being wrapped in a woven blanket - the memories of October's past and the enjoyment of now - Lovely! I have yet to visit and read my challenge from the weekend - but I will get to that soon. I enjoyed the Dylan Thomas vibe.

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    1. Since fall is my favorite season and I feel like in the fall of my life, it has made me nostalgic...

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