October

“All things on earth point home in old October; sailors to sea, travelers to walls and fences, hunters to the field, hollow and the lone voice of the hounds, the lover to the love he has forsaken.” -Thomas Wolfe

Looking back over my life, it appears October has been a singular event for me in many ways as the first frost, covers like a blanket of crushed ice across the top of lawns and the roof of houses and barns. And what are some of the things that remind me of October? The end of the harvest… the harvest moon… the music of Bach… sleeping with the windows open… old dogs warming their chilled bones by the fire… geese flying in formation… blackbirds sing in the dead of night… bats waking from the rafters of an old barn heading toward an ageless nocturnal ritual…

The sweet fragrance of gardenias… the delicate colors of pansies… freshly brewed coffee… the season’s first hot chocolate… days of contemplation and wonder. The reflected light from the setting sun… clear and cool nights… the cat sleeps longer… dogs bark louder…hobbits drinking beer in the post-dawn sun… bats returning from a hard day’s night as squirrels gather nuts and acorns for their winter stores… the month of my diagnoses…. red-tailed hawks… walking man singing frost is on the pumpkin and hay is in the barn… my daughters birth… owls… and you are on my mind.

*Copyright-2019-9-JC

Across A Blue Ocean

Across A Blue OceanLetters travel across a blue ocean
Ascending toward the zenith of the heart
Fluidity gives meaning between words
A continuous song from the misty sea
In between the meaning is heaven’s gate
Where Andromeda keeps her watch
Stones set on the land to chart our course
A beacon of ancient light before light ever was
I hear a blackbird sing upon arrival Continue reading Across A Blue Ocean

A Blue Ocean

1A05NM0NZKLetters travel across a blue ocean
Ascending toward the zenith   
Fluidity gives meaning between words
A continuous song from the misty sea
In between the meaning is heaven’s gate
Where Andromeda keeps her watch
I hear a blackbird sing upon arrival
A hawk glides overhead, it knows your name
Words have a way of telling more than we know
The ocean doesn’t seem so wide tonight.

For Little Bird

©jc2016-9