October Thought Day 19: The Poetry of October

I’m cheating a bit today. As I was scrolling Pinterest I came across an October poem that grabbed my attention. I read it, reread it and then sat back and thought. I went outside and watched a farmer bale his hay. I came back in and looked at websites for ghost towns; and all the while that poem played in the back of my mind. I couldn’t shake it. Good poetry/writing will do that, it sticks with you. So here it is for you to enjoy.
“There is something in the autumn that is native to my blood. Touch of manner. Hint of mood; and my heart is like a rhyme, with the yellow and purple and the crimson keeping time.
The scarlet of the maples can shake me like a cry of bugles going by. And my lonely spirit thrills to see the frosty asters like a smoke upon the hills.
There is something in October sets the gypsy blood astir; we must rise and follow her, when from every hill of flame she calls and calls each vagabond by name. – Bliss Carman

The very first line is written as if the author knows me personally, “there is something in the autumn that is native to my blood.” I think if you were to examine my blood at the microscopic level, you would find little pumpkin shaped plasma cells tumbling end over end and shifting color from orange then back to red. I’m almost positive (no pun intended) I’m right. I really do think October is a part of my very chemical makeup, and I think it has been for a very long time. Is it odd to identify so strongly with a month? Obviously I don’t think so.

Then comes the next thought, “and my heart is like a rhyme, with the yellow and purple and the crimson keeping time.” Ok, first of all, I love the word crimson. It is so much better than merely saying red, and what a wonderful idea, a heart beating to the rhythm of the fall colors. Yellow. Boom. Purple. Boom. Crimson. Boom, boom. They forgot the vibrant wonder that is orange but I forgive them as orange is hard to rhyme.

“The scarlet of the maples can shake me like a cry of bugles going by.” The writer had me at scarlet which is another marvelous word; and the fact that the mere color of the trees can shake the author so powerfully, I feel that way all the time. I just talked about it with the example of the car going over the dancing leaves. There is so much beauty in October days that it takes my breath away. There are so many things to see, smell and taste that it is almost an assault on the senses. Farmers markets, nature, mazes, decorations, the night sky, leaves, everything conspires to get your attention; the glisten of an apple with fresh morning dew or the rasp of a cornstalk blowing in the breeze. It’s wonderful, an embarrassment of riches.

“There is something in October sets the gypsy blood astir.” Exactly. I couldn’t have said it better myself. It turns out, I also have gypsy blood running rampant in my veins. Whenever the fall starts to peek out from underneath the skirts of summer I get this incredible feeling of wanderlust. I just want to get in my car and drive, it doesn’t matter where, I’ll know when I get there. I just want to see things; new things, old things, beautiful things, anything, everything.

As the poem intimates, October is calling each of us, the question is, will we heed the call?