Sweeping Through October
by Gay Williford
We are the winds of autumn,
sending chills, posting warnings,
as we whistle of what’s to come.
Our gusts vanquish summer’s balm,
clear the air of doldrums,
moor the sailboat, the beach umbrella
and prompt the wearing of flannel.
We create goose bumps
that inwardly justify hot teas,
mulled ciders, fresh donuts,
pumpkin pie and homemade soups.
We move over a spectrum of tree colors,
passing brilliant russets,
golds, vermilions, ochres,
and toss foliage into bright mosaics.
We bluster by red apple orchards,
fields of squash, pumpkins and cornstalks,
flap the fading shirts of scarecrows
and supply moans for an October eve.
Respect our intensity,
our howling will get noticed,
and our velocity cause change
as we usher in the icy breath of winter.