Thursday, October 24, 2013


G.I. and Lover, Hyde Park, London, 1944
Ralph Morse
Come with fiddler's reel,
quiver of leaves;
pull the tangle of branches
back from the sky.

Coax me to kick my shoes,
two-step the finest pine;
collapse in needles
at the base of the trunk.

Bark tastes my fingers
with mossy ridges,
like a green water dog
licking salt and scent.

Frost melts to dew.
I see myself in October eyes,
press the burn of summer
from your hair.

tk/October 2013 

A beautiful and unexpected midweek read by R.A.D. Stainforth...and in color too...


  1. Unexpectedly delightful. It's the crème to my morning coffee.

  2. Beautiful October poem, Tess.

    Lead your next book with this one.

  3. not altogether unexpected. what might be unexpected for me would be a misplaced word or one extra word. each word at each position seems to have grown there. nature doesn't usually put "extra" stuff in to a scene. perfection.


Inject a few raisins of conversation into the tasteless dough of existence.
― O. Henry (and me)