Winds of October

Nurtured by winds of October
Do some of us feel sold over?
Now that rowans russet red
And national feed the bird’s day
Is here again; for them to be fed.
Don’t we ourselves wish to stay?

Sun kissed warm and merry,
Drinking back the tastes of berry
Don’t we ourselves meet in the fall?
That age that will be our truest call...
When leaf and shadow, no longer;
Lushes green in stride to ponder.

Do we like the birds, needing feed?
Wish only to be bed down in the reed
To see the winter through till spring
Till nought else but the robin sing
Till nought else but the gospel choir
In tintinnabulation ring the messiah.