Some October

Some October, when the leaves turn gold, ask
me if I've done enough to deserve this life
I've been given. A pile of sorrows, yes, but joy
enough to unbalance the equation.

When the sky turns blue as the robes of heaven,
ask me if I've made a difference.
The road winds through the copper-colored woods;
no one sees around the bend.

Today, the wind poured out of Canada,
a river in flood, bringing down the brilliant leaves,
broken sticks and twigs, deserted nests.
Go where the current takes you.

Some twilight, when the clouds stream in from the west
like the breath of God, ask me again.

Barbara Crooker
    

Share this poem

Have a question? Please take a moment to read the guidelines first.
To subscribe, enter your email in the subscription form (menu icon, top right ⇗), or follow this link.
If you enjoy this blog, I'd appreciate anything on my wish list, or you could purchase my latest book, Mbera.
This blog uses Follow.it for email subscriptions and updates.
By subscribing, you may be sharing data with this service.
See our Privacy Policy for details.