It's Something in the Way I Smell October
By Josh Curtis
It's something in the way I smell the dying leaves of fall...
the leaves of fall... falling... that left the trees all bare.
It's something in the way I smell old wheat and stacks of grass
piled golden, less green... and leaves fill the ground.
Waking in dew filtered October mornings fills me with senses
that remind me of sad days when I'd lost all I wanted.
But when I smell the air of the season change to autumn,
I know one day, on some day, it all grows back green.
Burnt cedar smoldering above the tree line now lowers to where I sit.
Sitting on rod iron chairs rocking, watching the blue sky fade
Orange and red now found where once was blue and green
Dusk and moonlight stream through stripped tree-arms and I rock.
It's something in the way I smell October that tells me I know I'll survive.
Whatever may leave me alone, will only give way to new growth.
I have seen the last leaf fall to the ground. I have felt that final wind blow...
I have felt the stillness that fills the air when the leaves all lie on the ground.
Yet though alone here with me I feel October and the wind blows,
I know there is still life, and good, new wheat, closed buds, and April dawns,
The trees are not dead, the sky will brighten once more, and I know I will too.
The wood-stove smoke reminds me, it’s something in the way I smell October.
By Josh Curtis
It's something in the way I smell the dying leaves of fall...
the leaves of fall... falling... that left the trees all bare.
It's something in the way I smell old wheat and stacks of grass
piled golden, less green... and leaves fill the ground.
Waking in dew filtered October mornings fills me with senses
that remind me of sad days when I'd lost all I wanted.
But when I smell the air of the season change to autumn,
I know one day, on some day, it all grows back green.
Burnt cedar smoldering above the tree line now lowers to where I sit.
Sitting on rod iron chairs rocking, watching the blue sky fade
Orange and red now found where once was blue and green
Dusk and moonlight stream through stripped tree-arms and I rock.
It's something in the way I smell October that tells me I know I'll survive.
Whatever may leave me alone, will only give way to new growth.
I have seen the last leaf fall to the ground. I have felt that final wind blow...
I have felt the stillness that fills the air when the leaves all lie on the ground.
Yet though alone here with me I feel October and the wind blows,
I know there is still life, and good, new wheat, closed buds, and April dawns,
The trees are not dead, the sky will brighten once more, and I know I will too.
The wood-stove smoke reminds me, it’s something in the way I smell October.
3 comments:
I just wanted to tell you that I appreciate your comments on my blog. I just noticed that your a High school history teacher, so I can see how you have patience in your writing. =)
This, and everything else here, is just beautiful. Thank you for sharing.
Amazing poem. I second Amanda - thanks for sharing this.
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