OCTOBER IS NEXT WEEK
OCTOBER IS THIS WEEK
OCTOBER IS TOMORROW
The opening bud of the rose,
The golden fruit on the branch.
The gleaming disk of the sea.
The quivering halo around the campfire, the church floor as the sun meets the colored glass.
The steam that rises to dance over the cups set between two friends.
Heaven’s overturned wine glass in a deep sunset,
And the fiery rim that unites twilight with dusk.
And all this we would not know
But for that point of pure black that serves as our window
To the world,
That island of jet
Set in seas of jade, amber, sapphire,
The pupil enwreathed by cornea.
The darkness shows us what light is;
The teardrop moon that stains night’s cheek,
The smile of sunlight on water,
The storm-grey eyes that you look through,
And the opening bud of the rose.
Posted 1 month ago by benjomancave