an october astonishment

photo credit: AMY GRETCHEN

An October Astonishment
from The Mountains Within: Poems of the Wild by Garth Gilchrist

When I touched the yellow maple leaves
They entered me
Without my knowing

This morning after I’d picked them
I had their golden sweetness
In my veins

It was after holding them in my hands
Upon my skin in the slant light dewy morning
Plunging my nose deep in amongst them
Wet and cold, snuffling
The autumn scent
Suffused into air and me

My eyes are fixed on their open hands
Veined like mine
My fingers traced their fingers
Crimson stems upon my palms
Conduits through which
Shape and substance entered –
Mapleness

Only vaguely I sensed
Some epheremal
Sap entering me

I’d handled the winged seeds, too
Fuzzy pods full
Of imperceptible roots,
Bark and limbs
A million invisible leaves

I’d given handfuls to the waiting children
They went twirling
Whirling through the sky
Eager, alive with mapleness

Maybe for this
I woke this morning in my bed
Wholly content, bathed full,
Astounded and swimming
In that amber light that hovers
In and around maples
On crisp mornings
In October

I spent the morning curled up in a cosy corner feeling the heaviness of humidity (in October? surely not!) and unable to truly wake up for the day. I so knit, read some poetry, went on a walk in the neighboring cemetery, and set the intention to approach the day with gentleness.

Warmth and light and deep red hues on a slow Monday,

Meg xx