A Poem for Magictober

I’m fond of the impolite gust
That the first of October brings.
That chill that creeps across your skin
Like a sly smile and a sideways glance
I want in on that adventure
I want to be up to something
October is my month
Of up to somethings
It unfolds like so much
Like the wonder of
Maybe just believing for awhile

The heavy shuffles off,
And settles to the ground
And in its going
glows with new color
I can marvel at and glory in
And let go
Giddy somewhere deep
With the stir
Of as yet unrecognized

This is a magic I can believe in
Because who knows
In this month of days
That open like gifts
Who knows
What the gust
Will bring?

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