Untitled by Jill Bloodworth

Untitled

by Jill Bloodworth

october's here.

my footsteps crunch on the golden leaves

and echo dully on the cobblestones.

alone.

i stroll thru fields of goldenrod

wandering into woods

where wind rustles sweet gums

red as wine

and orange-tinged maples

touch the sky of cornflower blue,

pausing

i lean against an old rail fence

weather silver

and reflect on fate that keeps october

lonely and unshared.