"Poem" in October
(not to be confused with the poem-of-the-same-name by Dylan Thomas--link to his)
One sandal felt a little rough
As I was walking home.
I stopped; I checked; you know that pain--
My-Sandal-Hurts syndrome?
And there inside I found a leaf--
From some sad maple tree,
Whose children now float to the earth,
Find ways to bother me.
The leaf was perfect--hint of gold--
No imperfections--none.
I toed away the leaf with ease,
Walked on in morning sun.
Today it will be ninety, but
My sandal makes it clear:
It may seem summery, but now
October's really here.
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