She's always right.
And Now it’s October
by Barbara Crooker
the golden hour of the clock of the year. Everything that can run
to fruit has already done so: round apples, oval plums, bottom-heavy
pears, black walnuts and hickory nuts annealed in their shells,
the woodchuck with his overcoat of fat. Flowers that were once bright
as a box of crayons are now seed heads and thistle down. All the feathery
(Read the rest here. The final lines are everything: "...but nothing can stopper time.")
Drop by Matt Forrest Esenwine's Radio, Rhythm & Rhyme for the Poetry Friday round-up.