october 

If anticipation was a song 
it would be you – your 
melody swept up in the floral 
curtains that mask my view 
of an outdoor not-so-dissimilar 
from your last coming
now opaque through the soft 
light of your day's end.
Your forecast is unknown
the year spreads before you
blind to the barren chill 
still fanning the flames 
that scorched your ground. 
Your sporadic pleasures 
you don’t seem to register 
hold my attention as I 
look out the window,
It is you – October – that I
hum along to.