October smells lonely
like crispy leaves
that rustle when you kick through them
and itch when they get in your socks

October tastes
red and white and brown and orange and yellow
like the trees on the hillsides back home
and  the ice on early morning puddles
that crunches under waiting on the buses sneakers

The sounds of October
are the sounds of apples falling from the trees
grapes slowly turning to raisins in the orchard
and the snort of horses with steam rising from their withers in the frosty field

In my eyes, October is
Home, no matter where my behind sits
wood smoke from fire places and hoodys even at noon
It is hugs from family and cocoa and coffee in a steaming cup
and the stiff walk of kids clad in snow suits beneath halloween costumes.

October is always closest to my heart
and makes me smile
in longing sadness
for being back in the arms of home.