Thursday, October 03, 2019

Thursday Poem - October

October.  Its brilliant festival of dry
and moist decay.  Its spicy, musky scent.
The church's parking lot deserted
except for this one witness,
myself, just resting there.

Somewhere a radio plays Flamenco.
A spotlight of sunshine falls on the scattered debris.
Blood-red and gold, a perfect circle of leaves
begins to whirl,
slowly at first, keeping the pattern,
clicking against the blacktop
like heels and  castanets,
then faster, faster, faster. . .
round as a ruffle, as the swirling
skirts of an invisible dancer.
Swept off into the tangled woods
by the muscular breeze.
The hoarse cheering of crows.

Inside the dark empty church,
long cool shadows, white-painted wood,
austere Protestant candles thriftily snuffed,
Perhaps a note on the altar,
Gone dancing. Back on Sunday

Dolores Stewart, from The Nature of Things

3 comments:

Tabor said...

Perfect poem selection.

Barbara R. said...

What a sweet poem that gave me a chuckle this morning. Have a good day!

Beth Owl's Daughter said...

Perfect for National Poetry Day.
And so lovely of you to showcase our dear Dolores...such a beautiful song for the season.
Love to you, dear Cate. 🍁