welcome back, october
the first october night settles himself in, an old friend, a tired but not weary traveler after a yearâs absence.
his chill nestles in, leaving crimson footsteps in his wake. the ticking of almost ten oâclock mirrors my calmed heart.
together we await misted panes, cider and rain.
will he leave a tea ring? a well-read book? a creak? the crisp moving of air as he walks toward the door?
the clock sighs and raises its hands to another season.


















