October

By: Madeleine Tompkins

It is the second day of October.

An onslaught of raindrops

plays thunderously over every line

somehow making each song sound grander

and more tender

while I sit at the stoplight on my way to work.

The hillside next to me, covered in lilting grass

as always,

suddenly changes its uniform from a vibrant green

to soggy waves of brown.

The setting sun greets me early as I drive home,

so bright and low I can barely see the road.

Stay with me a little longer?

I roll my window down to ask her pleadingly.

It’s good for you to miss me, she replies.

And the months of missing are so intense each year

that I barely notice it all happening

until at least the end of March.

Suddenly an efflorescence of buds will erupt,

almost blinding against the grey sky.

And I will walk five blocks before realizing

I didn’t bring a jacket and my skin is smiling.

The daffodils my father planted 30 years ago

will pop up proudly to greet me once again.

And I will catch myself beaming as the sun sets at 5,

then 6, then 7 o’clock.

I leave so you get grateful,

she chides softly as I hit the gas

and watch her dip

slowly and deliciously

back into the hills.

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Madeleine, age 29, has a deep love for creative expression, whether it be through writing poetry or making art. She resides in Oakland, CA, but went to college in New York, where she studied creative writing and psychology. Madeleine takes inspiration from the natural world, as well as the curiosities and quirks of the creatures who occupy it. Her writing explores themes of love, loss, sensuality, beauty, nature, and longing. When Madeleine is not writing, she enjoys listening to podcasts, knitting, cooking, reading interesting articles, making art with her friends, and petting strangers’ cats on walks around her neighborhood.