Monday, October 11, 2010

The Taste of Place

In mid-October, I step

outdoors. A tang hangs

thick in the air. High-bush

cranberry presses past

ripe, beyond sour. Ash

and willow leaves yellow

on mud. Saturday's snow

soaked by rain. Chill from

the forest heard asking ~ How

do I bottle October? How

will it taste?

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