Momentary Escape

October exists

where the nocturnal

and the hallowed

converge.

Take the first exit just after the equinox.

Follow the full moon until you come to a

large

sleeping

willow tree

half engulfing the only sign,

half p u r g i n g it.

The road narrows until it forgets itself.

An interrupted thought.

Fog

paves the path now.

October has weather

you can climb into.

A blanket that hides

the chill.

The temperature

tastes like apple pie.

Warm comfort and

crisp, cinnamon soft.

Only the forest sheds its skin.

Pine needles

line the streets

like the discarded secrets

of yesterday,

where you can stand

coated

amidst the u n d r e s s i n g trees.

Off in the distance a creek slowly rumbles.

A voice with no words.

Breath

that carries worries

away

and swallows fears

like heavy stones.

October skies

are an explosion of sound.

The orange and purple hues

burst into symphony

with pink and red harmonics

that only your eyes can hear.

The maple trees mimic the clouds at dusk

turning the rainbow

into something you can touch.

Their leaves

scatter the earth.

A mirrored reflection

of what’s above.

October is fleeting.

Momentary.

A place you could walk right by.

But it’s here,

in this October,

that beauty and wonder

collide.