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October

I want to walk in the woods again

When October comes to the hills,

And bittersweet shines along the lane,

And a woodpecker drums and drills

On a dying tree. And sweet

And plaintive I hear the trills

Of a flock of roving chickadee.

And all alone on the bare blue sky

A hawk is a pasted silhouette.

And a truant serpent, gliding by

Slips o’er the path and through the wet

Dank logs that steam. And the sun

On the earth casts a warm vignette,

Making last night’s frost but a dream.

Here the warmth of summer lingers

On the lonely hills and the stream,

But the touch of icy fingers

Cuts the air, and I seem

To feel them in my heart. As the leaves

Flash and gleam and fall

So must we part.

And the tan of summer lingers

On your lovely face and brow.

But the touch of autumn’s fingers

Has flushed your cheek, and how

I thrill at the blend of seasons

That is in your face, and now

I know this is the end.

But we shall walk in the woods again

When October comes to the hills,

And you’ll pick bittersweet in the lane

And hear the woodpecker at his drills

And I shall see once more the seasons

Blend in your face, and thrill

To have you close to me.

Bill Dowey

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13StarsManagerhttps://malibutimes.com
The Malibu Times is the first newspaper in Malibu, serving the community since 1946.

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