The Love Of October
October 21st, 2015
The Love of October by W.S. Merwin (1927-)
A child looking at ruins grows younger
but cold
and wants to wake to a new name
I have been younger in October
than in all the months of spring
… walnut and may leaves the color
of shoulders at the end of summer
a month that has been to the mountain
and become light there
the long grass lies pointing uphill
even in death for a reason
that none of us knows
and the wren laughs in the early shade now
come again shining glance in your good time
naked air late morning
my love is for lightness
of touch foot feather
the day is yet one more yellow leaf
and without turning I kiss the light
by an old well on the last of the month
gathering wild rose hips
in the sun.
Image by Kyle Young
2 Responses to “The Love Of October”
Gorgeous, evocative, dreamy poem.
Being born at the start of October, I feel each year as if I am starting afresh again during this month, as if it evokes a half-remembered feeling of coming slowly to awareness as the light and colours and smells of Autumn arrived.
“…and without turning I kiss the light…”
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