They say October has announced itself
in multicolored appendages
and mornings you cling close to your chest
even as trees drop all modesty.
Nature’s design has always been to promise
tomorrow’s potential even as revolution
leaves us tilted more closely darkness.
So we are marching through the elements
of time, the drums marking days
shorter though I know we will not
slow our tempo. An intelligent child
escapes persnickety leaves one at a time.
The tune this October remains hopeful,
crunching leaves underfoot
a momentary soundtrack. No one will slip
on wet leaves when pushed out of sight.
Phillip Knight Scott | © 2019
Written with two prompts in mind: