Note: October seems to me to be a time of elegy, and losing Susan (aka “Sooz”) last year was a deep sorrow for me.

​

 LUX PERPETUA
    -for Susan Elbe-
                     --and you, my friend, out there somewhere,
                                still ahead of us in the light.   
                                                                    -Christopher Buckley on Larry Levis
​
A light that’s glancing off the hickory leaves,
Midas-touched in the October sun.  The world dims,
the dousing of a flame in the hearth.  There’s copper
and bronze in the trees, goldenrod lighting the meadows
and fields; squirrels are digging in, storing their hoard for the hard
days to come, and bees return to the hive, summer’s sweetness
sealed in wax.  The sky is still heartache blue, but November
is coming, with its afghan of gray, threaded by geese,
everything gone to seed.  Sitting by the fire
with a tumbler of whisky, I raise a glass to you,
old friend.  So many words unsung:  flocks of birds
gathering in stanzas on telephone wires, ready to lift
into the endless blue at a moment’s startle.
​
first published in The Comstock Review