Three children sitting on a log over a stream,
Watch the drift and dream their dreams.
Just as 100 years ago they might have been,
Sitting a brother, a sister, and a friend,
Dangling their feet above chilly waters.
Shooed outside, by a mother inside,
Wishing she could run with them to find
The leaves red and yellow and paling green,
And smelling of October.
The day is theirs, uninterrupted,
Hours to wander unstunted,
Having not yet learned the business of busyness
That makes it seem as though October flies
Like the geese, but ever much faster.
Forget that school's begun again,
There are promises the wind sends
the exhilarating smell of wet earth,
carrying the hopes of crickets who
dropped their songs at first frost
Leaving hints of opportunity for adventure.
ECO
