October Tenth

I have long admired the prose and poetry of Wendell Berry. When I read his poem October 10 on that date, I thought how perfectly it described my feelings about this time of the year.

October 10 by Wendell Berry from Selected Poems

Now constantly there is the sound,
quieter than rain, 
of the leaves falling.

Under their loosening bright
gold, the sycamore limbs
bleach whiter.

Now the only flowers
are beeweed and aster, spray
of their white and lavender
over the brown leaves.

The calling of a crow sounds
Loud -- landmark -- now
That the life of summer falls
silent, and the nights grow.