Poems (Kennedy)/October
For works with similar titles, see October.
OCTOBER
OCTOBER—and the parting of the ways!The backward path runs to the heart of JuneAnd still is vocal with unspoken rune Of greening sod and fruited field.We hear it yet in faint recessionalAs moves the year to its confessional Close to the altar steps of God.
The trail ahead runs down the glowing wayThat autumn's torch has fired. And pilgrim lureOf lifted pack and staff that's strong and sure Lurks at each turn along the road,And we walk forth beneath the paling skiesWith searching vision and far-seeing eyes And ask if we have found the end.
High priestess, robed and crowned, October stands,Her breasts gold-girdled and her white arms bare,And makes burnt sacrifice in which we share, For every "burning bush" along the hedgeIs wayside altar, flaming to the skies,And there we offer, with uplifted eyes, Oblation of our baser selves—And burn the dross to incense of the soul.