October

Eight years old,
Sent out into
The wild
To gather the
Cast off trappings
Of nature's
Wooden wadrobe.
Fresh dew adorns
Dappled autumn leaves
While flitted wings
Skip from withered
Blossom to
Withered blossom.
A wheelbarrow sits
Filled with treasures
Of the fallen kind
Guarded by three
Feet of freckles
And auburn hair.
A man of pumpkins
Keeps watch o'er
The road
In his cracked
And weathered
Plastic throne.
The smell of death
Is sweet
And mingles with
The chill
Of October air
While cars pass
Over nature's
Red carpet.
Called by name
Comes running
Three
Feet of freckles
Into arms
That bury auburn
Hair and leave
October chill
Outside
The broken screen
Door.