October 22, The Open Arch
Beneath the broad Palladian crown,
The heavy doors stand open wide;
To gather in the working town,
And keep the quiet safe inside.
October 21, In the Granite Seam
A narrow cleft in weathered stone,
Where spray and mountain seepage cling;
They rise in velvet caps alone,
Content with what the shadows bring.
October 20, The Carving Stone
No quiet mirror holds the sky,
Where water breaks the mountain bone;
A rushing white that will not die,
Turned sharp against unyielding stone.
October 19, The Sentinel in the Mist
A bare gray spire keeps the ground,
Stripped clean of needle, cone, and crown;
The quietest watch that can be found
Before the frozen dark comes down.
October 18, The Neighborhood Fire
The sun drops low behind the eaves
To strike the maple in the drive;
A furnace built of autumn leaves
That keeps the neighborhood alive.
October 17, Suspended in the Blue
The bog holds no wind today.
Only the weight of sky fallen inward,
Where clouds drift upside down
Through five feet of peat and silence.
October 16, Amber on the Cedar
Pressed flat against the furrowed bark,
A golden frond outlives the green;
A lace of amber in the dark,
Where summer’s shadow once had been.
October 15, A Haven in the Light
The morning breaks across the stone,
Where patient paws and quiet eyes
Wait for a hand to call their own
Beneath the bright October skies.
October 14, The Patient Sentinel
Among the drying pickerelweed,
Where amber shallows catch the sun,
He stands as still as river reed,
Until the careless minnows run.
October 13, Blazing on the Bough
Rain in Myers Park,
One red star drinks down the mist,
Blazing on the bough.
October 12, Sugar on the Blue
A sudden blaze against the chill,
Too bright for quiet wood to hold;
The crown ignites upon the hill
In sweet confection, green and gold.
October 11, The Forest Floor Keeps Watch
Beneath the sweep of amber crown,
Where needles weave a sodden bed,
A solitary cup turns down
Its rim of wet, persistent red.