October Is My Favorite Cliché
by Wilda Morris

It feels like football weather,
time to curl up with a good book
and a pumpkin spice latte,
but for the life of me
I can think of nothing better
than a walk on the wild side.
The trees on my block create
a golden canopy over my head,
and we all know nothing gold
can stay. I turn from the sidewalk
and head toward the pond.
This place is only a stone’s throw
from home and fit for the gods.

A hedge apple lies by the path.
Knowing that fruit doesn’t fall
far from the tree, I raise my eyes,
look up among nearby branches
until I see more. I wander further
to where maples lay down a red carpet,
for me. What a sight for sore eyes!
I agree with those who say
October is my favorite color.
I fall prey to cliché, but
I’ll never fall out of love with October.


Return to:

[New] [Archives] [Join] [Contact Us] [Poetry in Motion] [Store] [Staff] [Guidelines]