IN OCTOBER (FINAL VERSION)

 

so has the soul found itself lost among the green and golds of

fading summers so as to hear only the soughing of the wind

the ragged viola

of the beginning and the end and yet that is Christ's name too

Alpha and Omega, the distances of harps, the span of violins

so has the soul found itself to be reasoning not;

yet cherished

a drift of pale lemon across a violet sky

exiled on earth turning inward 

turning inward as the day was long

and the glittering frosts, all early.

this is autumn and the end of days

formerly as they were spent though

not of music though you cannot tell

where it all went giddy as the leaves

departing suddenly

leaving the branches to grieve

so the soul has shed gold, peach gold and time,

its stash of crimson, roses or clouds

but still, not music.not music, at all.

mary angela douglas 27 october 2021;15 april 2023