October Poem Rhyme Scheme

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	A
A smudge for the horizon	B
that on a clear day shows	C
the hard edge of hills and	D
buildings on the other coast	E
Anchored boats all head one way	F
north where the wind comes from	G
You can see the storm inflating	H
out of the west A dark hole	I
in gray cloud twirls widens	J
while white rips multiply	K
on the water far out	L
Wet tousled yellow leaves	M
thick on the slate terrace	N
The jay s hoarse cry He s	O
stumbling in the air	P
too soaked to fly	K
	-
	-
	-
Knuckles of the rain	Q
on the roof	R
chuckles into the drain	Q
pipe spatters on	S
the leaves that litter	T
the grass Melancholy	U
morning the tide full	V
in the bay an overflowing	H
bowl At least no wind	W
no roughness in the sky	K
its gray face bedraggled	X
by its tears	Y
	-
	-
	-
Peeling a pear I remember	T
my daddy s hand His thumb	G
the one that got nipped by the saw	Z
lacked a nail fit into	A2
the cored hollow of the slippery	U
half his knife skinned so neatly	U
Dad would pare the fruit from our	T
orchard in the fall while Mother	T
boiled the jars prepared for	B2
putting up Dad used to darn	C2
our socks when we were small	D2
and cut our hair and toenails	E2
Sunday mornings in pajamas we d	U
take turns in his lap He d help	F2
bathe us sometimes Dad could do	A2
anything He built our dining table	G2
chairs the buffet the bay window	H2
seat my little desk of cherry wood	I2
where I wrote my first poems That	J2
day at the shop splitting panel	G2
boards on the electric saw oh I	K
can hear the screech of it now	K2
the whirling blade that sliced	L2
my daddy s thum he received the mar	M2
that long after in his coffin	N2
distinguished his skilled hand	O2
	-
	-
	-
I sit with braided fingers	P2
and closed eyes	Q2
in a span of late sunlight	R2
The spokes are closing	H
It is fall warm milk of light	R2
though from an aging breast	S2
I do not mean to pray	F
The posture for thanks or	B2
supplication is the same	T2
as for weariness or relief	U2
But I am glad for the luck	V2
of light Surely it is godly	U
that it makes all things	W2
begin and appear and become	G
actual to each other	T
Light that s sucked into	A2
the eye warming the brain	Q
with wires of color	T
Light that hatched life	X2
out of the cold egg of earth	Y2
	-
	-
	-
Dark wild honey the lion s	O
eye color you brought home	Z2
from a country store	B2
Tastes of the work of shaggy	U
bees on strong weeds	A3
their midsummer bloom	B3
My brain s electric circuit	C3
glows like the lion s iris	N
that concentrated vibrates	D3
while seeming not to move	E3
Thick transparent amber	T
you brought home	Z2
the sweet that burns	F3
	-
	-
	-
The very hairs of your head	G3
are numbered said the words	H3
in my head as the haircutter	T
snipped and cut my round head	G3
a newel poked out of the tent	I3
top s slippery sheet while my	K
hairs straight rays rained	J3
down making pattern on the neat	K3
vacant cosmos of my lap And	D
maybe it was those tiny flies	Q2
phantoms of my aging eyes seen	L3
out of the sides floating that	J2
when you turn to find them	M3
full face always dissolve but	C3
I saw I think minuscule	N3
marked in clearest ink Hairs	Y
and fall the cut off	O3
ends streaking little comets	P3
till they tumbled to confuse	Q3
with all the others in their	T
fizzled heaps in canyons of my	K
lap And what keeps asking	H
in my head now that brushed off	O3
and finished I m walking	H
in the street is how can those	C
numbers remain all the way through	T
and all along the length of every	T
hair and even before each one	B
is grown apparently through	T
my scalp For if the hairs of my	K
head are numbered it means	R3
no more and no less of them	M3
have ever or will ever be	T
In my head now cool and light	R2
thoughts phantom white flies	Q2
take a fling This discovery	T
can apply to everything	H
	-
	-
	-
Now and then a red leaf riding	H
the slow flow of gray water	T
From the bridge see far into	T
the woods now that limbs are bare	T
ground thick littered See	T
along the scarcely gliding stream	S3
the blanched diminished ragged	T3
swamp and woods the sun still	U3
spills into Stand still stare	T
hard into bramble and tangle	G2
past leaning broken trunks	V3
sprawled roots exposed Will	U3
something move some vision	B
come to outline Yes there	T
deep in a dark bird hangs	W3
in the thicket stretches a wing	H
Reversing his perch he says one	B
Chuck His shoulder patch	X3
that should be red looks gray	T
This old redwing has decided to	T
stay this year not join the	Y3
strenuous migration Better here	T
in the familiar to fade	Z3

May Swenson

October Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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