Monday's Poetry: "October"

by Pa Rock
Poetry Appreciator

October, the first full month of autumn, is one of the most beautiful times of the year.  The leaves change in October from their dark summer green to the beautiful reds and golds of fall.  The air gets nippier and the wind a bit harsher as we all begin the slow process of hunkering down for the approaching winter.

And now the leaves are falling.    I will eventually rake and mulch those that don't blow away of their own accord - and then work them into the process of creating new soil for the next growing season.

The last remnants of the gardens are harvested in October.  Equipment is cleaned and put away in storage to await the spring, and many decorate their yards and patiently wait for the spooks to descend across the peaceful neighborhoods on Halloween.

Today's poem, "October," by the late American poet Robert Frost, is a tribute to the month of October. Mr. Frost covers his subject with simple grace, much like the actual frost does when it shimmers across a country landscape on a chilly October morning.


October
by Robert Frost

O hushed October morning mild,

Thy leaves have ripened to the fall;

Tomorrow’s wind, if it be wild,

Should waste them all.

The crows above the forest call;

Tomorrow they may form and go.

O hushed October morning mild,

Begin the hours of this day slow.

Make the day seem to us less brief.

Hearts not averse to being beguiled,

Beguile us in the way you know.

Release one leaf at break of day;

At noon release another leaf;

One from our trees, one far away.

Retard the sun with gentle mist;

Enchant the land with amethyst.

Slow, slow!

For the grapes’ sake, if they were all,

Whose leaves already are burnt with frost,

Whose clustered fruit must else be lost—

For the grapes’ sake along the wall.