Ten years ago today Daddy died.
October when more than leaves turn.
When gray mists weave over fields
of browning corn; when milkweed
bursts and squat pumpkins grin
ferocious benedictions from porches,
and lovers walk under buttermilk skies.
Ten years ago today Daddy died.
October when more than leaves turn.
When gray mists weave over fields
of browning corn; when milkweed
bursts and squat pumpkins grin
ferocious benedictions from porches,
and lovers walk under buttermilk skies.
Sorrows red as leaves turn in me,
ghosts of all that's gone. My father
over six feet tall and blond, big
and laughing, kind hands holding me,
a book, his mandolin, his faith
deep as October's shadows.
He taught me to love autumn
when there are no promises, when beauty
of red and gold, amber and blue remain,
All we have to enrich us, to let us be.
October turns and I turn into a woman,
turn into my father, blond and laughing,
kind hands holding my child, a future.
Look behind my eyes, dying green
like October grass. My history,
my dreams turn like the leaves
and fall. And in their fall,
I find my faith.