Here is October. Are you glad to see me? Have you waited In hope I’d be alive again? But I have diminished. Did you wait long For me to come around For dim evenings And ricocheted sound bites? But I have changed. Here is my head White faced And calloused shut. As if the world could do damage To the wind. It is not I – But a one trick pony That lays its eyes on the population. Necessary – maybe – To survive these seasons. October… then. Then, here is my voice A meek offering As if one could change the decision Of God.