a poem which began as I was driving to work through the darkness and fog that appeared on the first day of October…
in the night.
She rises in silence,
stirring white veils of fog
within the world’s
I am awake, too,
and that I am aware
it was not as dark
at this same time
was still here.
her black satin robes
in the moonlight.
She whispers of magic
and I shiver
just before the sun bursts forth
like a famous artist
with palette in tow-
“There is no blue without yellow
and without orange,
and if you put in the blue,
then you must put in the yellow
and orange too,
and suddenly everything is
yellow and orange and blinding blue
with flecks of scarlet and brown
against the still-green canvas.
For all her dark mystery
and the death-shroud she carries,
October doesn’t speak
She points instead
-see that golden thread glittering
there in her sleeve?-
to celebrations just ahead.
I see you
disguising your smile
as you creak open
nature’s ancient alchemical doors,
reverently ushering in
the leaf-bejeweled holiness
that I shall henceforth call
How would you personify early October?
It is difficult to find a photo of a veiled figure comparable to the dark morning bands of fog.
The quote, “There is no blue without yellow and without orange…” comes from Van Gogh, written in a letter to his brother. I have used it several times in poems. Seems especially fitting here for the colors of October, illuminated by the artist-sun.
with thanks to Two Writing Teachers for the weekly Slice of Life Story Writing Challenge
(even when my small-moment story morphs into poetry)