The den

Heavy with books
The walls sang
With the smell
Of old paper
And love
And imagination

The two dimensional deer
Watched on

Guns and bows
Gun oil and black powder
And the musty red leather smell
Of the barrel chair
Stuffed with
Unread and outdated
Redbook, better homes and lady’s home journal

And above it all
The cups
The mugs
The untold stories
I always wondered about

Recliner empty
Full of memories
Pencil shavings
And scoring an orange
I close my eyes
And play beneath
The cradle
The bible
The shelves

The Smells of October

I walk the
Childhood pathways of my mind
of the Octobers
my feet have trod

Dry and frost bitten
field corn smells
gold and musty

Maple and Oak leaves
smell crunchy beneath booted feet
red and yellow and orange and brown
dry and crispy and rotting

White is the smell of mud puddles
that crunch
beneath feet
stamping up and down
waiting on the diesel smelling
school bus sliding and brake farting
up to the driveway
White is how cold wet feet are
when they break through the ice
and sink into the squishy mud

Now they smell
warm and dry and green and tan
leaves cling deliberately to branches
and grass shrivels in the too hot heat
sweat and dust
cling to everything
and Halloween is all about keeping cool enough
instead of finding a costume
to fit over snow suit and boots

October smells always
like cider and coffee and tea
and caramel apples and candy corn
rustling ripped wrappers
from candy sneaked from bags
as little feet hang back
from watchful eyes

October smells homesick
and of missed hugs
and shared mornings
but also smells
of wide open windows
warm breezes
and trains signing to owls
in the clinging darkness