by Sandra Lindow

October Bread


Within the great blue bowl,

I walk, mixing October

with wind in my hair,

light sifting chrysanthemum flower,

chokecherry, chinaberry,

black birds like raisins

tossed in the dough,

this day of leaf and leaven.


Some say bread's the staff of life,

but I hold to sun and air.

These last few days before the dark,

I claim what soon will be lost,

kneading the sun, kneading the air,

I bake within my skin

summer's memory, frangible gold.

-originally published in Wisconsin Poets Calendar