October is already here
and with it I sense a fresh anticipation
suck and pull,
snapping into me like a rush of autumn breeze,
quickening and hastening my step,
putting roses into my once-wan cheeks.

Even now, trees are facing themselves for the assault
which will make them barren and bare,
force them to stand tall with branches held bravely
against wind, rain, eventually snow and ice storms.

I will
prepare for Thanksgiving,
take up my rusty paintbrush once more
in thin, bony fingers
make visions appear on tea paper,
reunite myself with colour,
come alive while others cocoon:
shop for presents,
complete at least one volume of poetry,
drink herbal tea every morning

I will fall in love again with
walking to get the mail,
weather that changes by the hour,
blustery days,
the burning tired feeling muscles take on
after a job well done

I will make an effort to eat,
bake apple pies,
stir sauces,
baste myself in the richest broths,
simmer soups

fill my house with music,
dance when the moment hits me,
sing until my voice gives out
as I try to harmonize with creaking eaves
that are rocking to a tune,
played by billowing gales of autumn’s tempestuous wind
that serenade me into coming to life once more.

 © Aurora Antonovic

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