October - Oct 15 2026

 

October

Oct 15 2026

I crunch through autumn leaves

sun-dried, and piled deep

as thunder rumbles far away;

a sound, like a lion's roar

heard as much as felt

deep in my core.

A coming storm.

When the distant horizon

bristles with roiling clouds.

When the sky darkens 

wind picks up

and you feel a power you can’t control;

the thrill

of a small hairless animal

naked under his clothes.

The world feels still,

as if holding its breath 

on the edge

teetering over the drop. 

The way a stone, tossed straight up, tops out,

pausing midair

as if exempt from gravity.

For too long, it sometimes seems;

because time isn’t fixed,

and because we see what we expect

or wish for.

In the calm before the storm

the light is unfiltered, 

so austere and steely-eyed

it etches each blade of grass

and anorexic tree

with unembellished clarity.

    . . .  A downpour has pummelled the ground

and it’s still coming down,

a light but steady rain. 

The thunder has quelled

lightning passed

storm expended its power.

All the fury, drained out of it,

like adrenaline from a body

exhausted by the fight.

I hear it drumming on the roof, trickling out the eaves.

The fallen leaves

have softened and swelled,

lying limply

in glistening mats

plastered to the earth.

No grass,

just a brown expanse

of rumpled sheets

left on the bed too long;

dirty laundry

waiting to be washed.