October
October is the treasurer of the year,
And all the months pay bounty to her store;
The fields and orchards still their tribute bear,
And fill her brimming coffers more and more
But she, with youthful lavishness,
Spends all her wealth in gaudy dress,
And decks herself in garments bold
Of scarlet, purple, red, and gold.
~Paul Laurence Dunbar, 1872 – 1906
See the rest of the poem here.
Now that October has arrived, ‘tis open season on all things creepy and macabre. As an aside, I’ve noticed a pattern -- my posts seem to rotate among: nonsensical, terrifying, and disgusting. Somehow, this week, I have managed to combine all three.
A few days ago, I saw a ring of turkey vultures hanging in the murky, evening sky. They usually circle lazily in a group of twenty or so, and they always stir a tiny pool of dread in the pit of my stomach.
Undertakers
Turkey vultures circle death,
ring around a broken beast
whispering its final breath.
Now begins the evening feast.
© Tracey Kiff-Judson 2023
You can enjoy a less gloomy Poetry Friday with Matt at Radio, Rhythm & Rhyme! Stop by and learn The Thing to Know About Stargazing!
Truth: The first time I read it, I read the second line as "breast" - and as I slid into the third line, I thought: Interesting...she didn't try to rhyme it --till I hit the end and realized I misread beast! Re-read and thus, my opening comment :)
Ah ha! Turkey breast is the culprit! Makes sense!