Winter Approaches

This upcoming weekend is the last of October weekends. November seems to signal for me that it is about to be winter. As I was reading a book of Mary Oliver poems, I came across one that spoke to my mood (as I sat, on my lunch break, in a park in my car with heat and music on low).

Last Days

Things are
changing; things are starting to
spin, snap, fly off into
the blue sleeve of the long
afternoon. Oh and ooh
come whistlingout of the perished mouth
of the grass, as things
turn soft, boil back
into substance and hue. As everything,
forgetting its own enchantment, whispers:
I too love oblivion why not it is full
of second chances. Now,
hiss the bright curls of the leaves. Now!
booms the muscle of the wind.