October

A cacophony of color surrounds me. Shades of red, yellow, orange fall softly into my eyes. Everything gilded in beautiful October light. It drips from every leaf, every corn stalk, every blade of still green grass. Pumpkins polka dot my vision.

October lives in my bones and runs through my veins.

The air is soft. Soft with the remnant of summer and filled with a steady stream of yellow honey locust leaves. The next breath will float one into my afternoon coffee.

The world is screaming to be noticed, yearning to be smelled, to be touched, to be tasted.

Light blue sky with cotton ball clouds.

Sweet drops of juice from a crisp apple.

Leaves rattling as they tumble down the street.

Warm, soft sunshine caresses my face.

Damp earth, ready to receive this year’s leaf crop.  

Oh October, how you demand attention.

Hay tractors drive down my street, but their gait is slow and steady now, much less urgent than the driving of early, summer mornings.

Now they rumble by in mid afternoon, as if they too have a little time.

The harvest is over and winter is still out on the horizon.

October is a pause.

A breath.

A chance to look around and gather up warmth and color and the fullness that is right now. Reflection on lives lived and people who have passed on.

Masquerading as witches and pumpkins to try and trick the inevitable. Pretending in a moment of joy as we wait for the sharp cold and the white snow and the inward turn of winter.

But for now, October.