October is the cruellest month

It's coming to the end, now.

So I thought I ought to celebrate this, my favourite dying month, with one of the voices in my head.

The name - of it - is 'Autumn' -
The hue - of it - is Blood -
An Artery - opon the Hill -
A Vein - along the Road -

Great Globules - in the Alleys -
And Oh, the Shower of Stain -
When Winds - upset the Basin -
And spill the Scarlet Rain -

It sprinkles Bonnets - far below -
It gathers ruddy Pools -
Then - eddies like a Rose - away -
Opon Vermillion Wheels -

Emily Dickinson

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My Mad Girl

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A Shelf of One's Own

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