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Irina Moga

October Light




Have you ever wondered why the October morning light is different from what we experience at other times during the year?

I do not have any argument to buttress up the above statement.

However, I do have some empirical observations, which I summarize in poetic terms below.

The piece "Unlabeled", was published in issue #88 of the Neologism Poetry Journal.


Unlabeled


Walking in the low glow of an early October morning,
I remember Homer obsessing over “the rosy-fingered aurora” in the Odyssey.

Pink,
—    a jumbled-up derivative of pure colors —

its frequency unlabeled on the electromagnetic spectrum

a flimsy caress of light,
moving through the periphery of marigolds and summer.

There is no season like the sporadic onset of the fall,
an equinox hidden in its brackets,

hanging in the balance
of gusty winds and sleet.

This hesitation makes us better hosts —
amphitryons of a convivial and

cagey alphabet.


And from above — a colored leaf just floats.










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