WRITE your wishes
on the door
and come in.
Stand outside
in the pools of the harvest moon.
Bring in
the handshake of the pumpkins.
There’s a wish
for every hazel nut?
There’s a hope
for every corn shock?
There’s a kiss
for every clumsy climbing shadow?
Clover and the bumblebees once,
high winds and November rain now.
Buy shoes
for rough weather in November.
Buy shirts
to sleep outdoors when May comes.
Buy me
something useless to remember you by.
Send me
a sumach leaf from an Illinois hill.
In the faces marching in the firelog flickers,
In the fire music of wood singing to winter,
Make my face march through the purple and ashes.
Make me one of the fire singers to winter.
(Carl Sandburg)
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