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The Abbey in the Oakwood, by Caspar David Friedrich
Nelson D Reyes

Winged October Ghosts

Rain Mirage

Winged October Ghosts
 
 
 
Low three digits sun
    Hot mountain winds sea breeze none
Pumpkins yet to come
 
Grey clouds gather way
    Tall oaks valley brush skyward
Heady clouds draw in
 
                        ***
 
Across time back to the wet tadpole days
In the streets of Manila
Chest naked open mouth sky rain wet face
Lightning sparks in the dark surround
Thunders nobody cared as we chased
Bare feet scooped frog babies into empty jars
Water filled gleeful faces we had laughters
Arms stretched out waving as we look for more
 
Splashing sounds of rain in hot October
Echo near wind blown far down the blocks
Playgrounds we frolic games screamed loud
Kick foot games arm thrust hand games
Played kids rules shirtless in dry times
Thumb flick drop marbles in series holes
Flattened soda cans hole-in small stones
But none in summer October showers
 
Cool monsoon air creep slowly steadily
Like the ghosts coming out to a deep purple
Silence of a cemetery abandoned after the last
Magnolia bouquet drifted pineapple scent
Across the fields of beloved souls gone back to peace
Cold concrete bench curving now empty I sat alone
Trinity crossed genuflected palm on ancestral tomb
Kissed goodbye cool air felt kin apparitions walked with me
 
The squeaky screen door
    Warm ambiance welcome at once
Safe as I stepped in
 
Ancestral spirits left long before I sat on the cane chair
With holes in the rattan seat I remember summer ended
December winds engulfed me as I hear breezes filtered
Through the fruit trees circle the house as if breath blown
By the winged October ghosts from across the fern fields
Cloud walking crystal caps of dew on orange and black blooms
Kids we were merrily unwrapping red and yellow gifts of joy
Giggling under the twinkling lit green Christmas Tree
 
Low setting under
    The clouds in the horizon
Simmering air waves
    Clouds gathering darker still
    As I come back from a trail
 
                         ***
 
Scorching pumpkin sun
    Jack– o– lanterns tricks now here
Pumpkin patch sweet treats
    Eastern winds and sea breeze come
    Upon inland rain mirage
 
October showers
    A dream from across the seas
My head counting sheep
    Laid down stretched out faith locked eyes
    With winged October ghosts
 
©NDR9.28.2016

Hot in Southern California. In the low century. Lucky if you see a
rain mirage, at least. Memories of childhood rainy days in far, far away place
juxtaposed with the winged October ghosts now all over and the season of joy
not far behind.

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