Oh, October and a few other thoughts

There is no ‘flannel season’ where I live. Around these parts it stays in the 85-degree range until – Christmas, or thereabouts, so it is sometimes difficult for me to remember just where we are in the seasonal cycle.

October 2023 – can’t be. As you get older, the months seem to travel quickly, but this one really crept up on me. So, I intend to enjoy every day of October 2023, because the next time we see an October pop up, it will be in 2024 and we (in the US) know what that means. By next year, at this time, we will be in the death throes of US Presidential election, number 60. And what an all-consuming contest it is bound to be, divisive, ugly, and devoid of civility. But that is to come, and this is the here and now.

So, I intend to enjoy every day of these sweet October days below the frost line. We haven’t leaves to turn color, but we have rockets lighting our skies every few days as we reach out for the moon, Mars and beyond. Rocket launches have become so commonplace here on the Space Coast that we often forget they are scheduled until we see the plume of smoke in the sky and feel the sonic boom rocking the house. Just another day here.

So, what poetic offering do I have to celebrate October of 2023? I didn’t think I had one, but I do, so here it is. It was written several years ago as I sat on a Florida beach:

OH OCTOBER

Oh October,
you have
tracked me down
like a
contract process server,
with envelope in hand,
rushing toward me
as I sit
helpless,
on Ft. Lauderdale beach,
toes in granite sand,
Ray Bans angled into
fading afternoon sun.
You hand me the price
that I’ll pay:
No shady drive
leaf
peeping
bright New England
autumn
cider sipping
pumpkin picking
pre-ski
crisp air from
Ontario blowing
across the Lakes
orange and yellow
tinged afternoons.
With brandy and
conversation
before the first
fire.
Just remanent heat
here
beach-side
last hurricane of
the season,
six hundred miles
offshore.