By Maggie Dietz
Show's over, folks. And didn't October do
A bang-up job? Crisp breezes, full-throated cries
Of migrating geese, low-floating coral moon.
Nothing left but fool's gold in the trees.
Did I love it enough, the full-throttle foliage,
While it lasted? Was I dazzled? The bees
Have up and quit their last-ditch flights of forage
And gone to shiver in their winter clusters.
Field mice hit the barns, big squirrels gorge
On busted chestnuts. A sky like hardened plaster
Hovers. The pasty river, its next of kin,
Coughs up reed grass fat as feather dusters.
Even the swarms of kids have given in
To winter's big excuse, boxed-in allure:
TVs ricochet light behind pulled curtains.
The days throw up a closed sign around four.
The hapless customer who'd wanted something
Arrives to find lights out, a bolted door.
Halloween was a gorgeous cool day in the Seattle area. I spent the morning wrestling with my computer -- which, weirdly enough, seems to have installed the new Windows update fine, and now only the photo programs are misbehaving. We went for an early walk to pick up the door tags our neighborhood organization gave out so people could indicate they were available for trick or treating.
5/6 of the people on my Voyager call came to chat, but we skipped watching an episode because we were all getting up at various times to give out candy. The World Series game was another blowout, so it's just as well I was distracted. We only had about 15 kids visit overall, but we chatted with neighbors and I got an Almond Joy from the office candy bin, so it was a successful Halloween!