October, by James Schuyler

October

 

Books litter the bed,

leaves the lawn. It

lightly rains. Fall has

come: unpatterned, in

the shedding leaves.

 

The maples ripen. Apples

come home crisp in bags.

This pear tastes good.

It rains lightly on the

random leaf patterns.

 

The nimbus is spread

above our island. Rain

lightly patters on un-

shed leaves. The books

of fall litter the bed.

I’m still high from reading Nathan Kernan’s A Day Like Any Other: The Life of James Schuyler. Mental illness permeated his adult years—but also he was bound by the seasons. So many of his poems contain seasonal observations. This one hints at relationships: our island; at love: the bed; at unrequited loneliness: dreary autumn rain. For Schuyler there were rings of friendship—but also failed romances. There was getting older; memories of bygone days; unfulfilled dreams. October holds all of this.

Goodbye October.