Thirtyfirst

The last full night of October has been remarkably clear, and the waning moon remains bright, illuminating the pale fallen leaves that make the dark lawn a rich brocade. Orion now treads halfway down the western sky before sunrise. Despite the stillness of the chill air, I now and then hear the sound of wind chimes from a nearby yard. There is something forlorn about the end of October, but for me it is a pleasant melancholy the time induces. This is a season for celebrating all that passes, and laying to rest all regrets. It's only a little time, after all, and the cold is not merely endurable, but invigorating. A warm coat is all I need, and I can watch the enduring stars.

( Sunday Verse )

Quiet

Hazy moonlight illuminates the final hours of October. There was little Halloween activity, as usual. Perhaps a dozen kids came to this street, and none of them bothered to visit my darkened house. As far as I know, none of them were devoured by whatever creature it was that growled at me the other night, nor by any other wild beast. Now, the street is utterly placid, washed with pale light, and still lined with fallen leaves rather than discarded candy wrappers. This is one of the advantages of living in a town with few children, and no University students to speak of. I'll bet that Chico is half in ruins by now, and littered with passed-out, drunken frat boys. Yes, that would be the advantage of living in a college town.

I'm a bit sad that October is over. It's a long time till May.