October Sunday

Marsha L. Mentzer

In the swirl of dust and leaf,

I live,

feel the purple sky lowered to touch,

wrap it for myself against the breath of endings,

and walk staunchly forward,

head bent just a fraction lower

than yesterday.

It is not as if anything prepared me this time,

so I look at

crushed and scattered acorns,

oak clusters, squirrel-bitten and discarded,

and know that I have neither

instinct nor energy

for a plan.

At most,

I push my hands into pockets

lined with lint

and keep moving.

---

Marsha Mentzer lives in Carlisle, Pennsylvania and has taught English for thirty years at Carlisle High School. She began writing poetry three years ago after attending a poetry workshop in Massachusetts. Her poetry has been published in Main Channel Voices, Out of Line, Ruminate, and Relief.

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