Mr. October

You are somehow here brother or at least

you should be,

somehow brought us here

and somehow never leave.

 

The house is all a buzz with

big bass booming, cymbal crashing

atmosphere, upturned stereos,

screams and name callings, hey!  HEY!

tackles and shoulder hugs grabbing arms while

fresh stove scents come breeze-wafting

through hallways, worn-in cozy

blankets, pillow sheets and

backpacks, shoulder bags, shoes all a scatter

in the mismatch chairs sit jackets hats

on hardwood indoor autumn floors.

(silly to think so many other living rooms

hip and clean and miss the point).

 

Sit me down and look at you,

look at you so healthy friend, all woven together

by familiar faces in a fine-knit as your are,

with the simplest, most comfortable,

half full stomach, half drunk mind,

just got warm and glowing smile –

grew new bark around your pain and

learned to be a child again.

Tell me how the summer when...

 

Meanwhile out the windows a

December dusk is glooming,

seems to say “it’s dark out here and cold,

the year is growing old…”

Hardly would an ear to hear in

warmth of lamplit corners glow.