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Rose Flint

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October Blessing

 

The leaves are blessing me, the falling leaves
are blessing me and the road, the falling fiery leaves
are generous with their blessings and include
my old silver Saab, a Dalmatian, the tax inspector
hurriedly crossing his camomile lawn and a slow worm
coiled like a copper torc in her sun-bliss by the rockery.

I have only to stand still and October blesses me
with her dry lizardy kisses; my arms are touched,
my white lifted face is touched briefly, delicately
bless, bless, bless ... months caress me with their fortunes,
a whole year of months. I reach out joyously to all
this goldleaf rain, these papery dollars of light, this luck.

This winter will bring blessing even under ice, under snow
and sorrow. In my own boulevard the tax inspector and I
will be blessed with lucks printing their sudden colours
on our roads and careful lawns, the hound’s coming and going.
The sleeping slow worm will teach me how to hoard
the leaves warmth and let their light filter into my heart,
leaching out the old year’s toxins so we will wake in the green
Spring, shrug off the dust of our last skin and begin again.

 

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