Sounds of October
The linden trees have their leaves and the
poplars are still green
but the winds are more hasting and somewhat
colder,
somewhat bolder. I've seen on my screen
fashionable clothes
for the coming season.
Suddenly, at a shocking early time of the day
black darkness is pressing against the windows
of my abode
trying to push the depression mode, no way, I kindle
a number of tea lights.
In a month of October I was born, greatly
cherished,
making my young mother unaware of the Cuban Missile
Crisis,
of the fear men would perish in a new World War:
cradle between icicles.
October, what can we expect, last of summer
warmth,
first of winter's frost, a little rain amidst
heavy downpours.
I love to be feasting in cuddling family arms,
for sure,
this time of year.
When the Second World War our hilltop villages invaded
my little mama and her baby sister were members
of the Old Church,
ethnically safely hiding (comparable with crypto-Jews),
and they made it.
The year is old , the year is new, sweet as honey and without hatred.
We are longtime related, nations who know times and generations,
like God-fearing heroes rising to overcome woes
and foes.
There are sounds in the sky.
my mother and I in 2016
No comments:
Post a Comment