Hark to October's Song

Hark, while the busy flower flings its petal to the tree

And every hill of former green dons dazzling filigree

The winnowing of days fills skies with roseate and teal

The target of thought’s dream-some sighs lies somber and surreal

Hark, heaven lends suggestions of what waits beyond this clod

Of four-season investments scribbled on parchments of sod

Where sunlight splays its circle of gold high atop the earth

And mankind lays his winsome ways within its waning girth

Hark, while a seraphim of frond and limb unfurls its song

And all along the boulevard scuttles a scattered throng

Of quarter-notes and amber-threaded tatters from a coat

That flaunted fearless flowers and hours fond and remote

Hark, lest in our hasting we forfeit life’s finest things

For bits of boorish tasting and want’s temperamental strings

Where now the colored flame of dirt laughs like a clapping child

Before the taming wind that howls through bones and wooded wild

© Janet Martin

Sometimes one simply needs to get out there and enjoy it, or fall falls away like a leaf on the wind, untouched.