October

It was my father's favorite month,
tourists having evaporated. Time to
hunt a bit, when dark oak trees
detonated clouds of orange
in the evergreen Sierra mass.

October at the college,
ritual ivy going gold
to keep illusions alive &
the syllabus I sweated over
in August seeming to cruise--
as long as I, like a mechanic,
tinkered, replaced parts,
oiled students' rusting interest
with adjustments, listened
for the tell-tale whine.

October: darkness demands
more time. No bargaining allowed.
I fall in love again with sunlight,
hoping she will have me back
again, late in Spring.

hans ostrom 2022