Old October is Almost Over

Waves
slapping the quay
as if enraged by the monotony
of their monochromatic grays

explode,
frothy and frenzied,
rabid lips curled in disdain
for my insignificant witness

          or for the ancient knowing
          that old October is almost over.


Herring gulls,
sounding their bugles
as if insulted by the treachery
of a traitorous Indian summer

cry out,
adding an afterthought 
(eh-eh-eh-eh…)
that hints of uncertainty

          or of an ancient acceptance
          that old October is almost over. 


Weathered oak
shushing her branches
(as if she knows not
what will come)

shudders
each time a leaf lets go,
as if keening lost connections
to essential parts of herself

          or her ancient premonitions
          that old October is almost over.


Sandusky Bay
spilling before me
as if the shoreline
were a myth

beckons
with confidence -
as if I were young,
too young for heartache

          or the ancient realization
          that old October is almost over.

 

    26 October 2013http://maurazagrans.com/explore/my-poetry/