All-Hallows’ / Old Wives’ / St. Martin’s /
Indian / Second Summer / the sun’s
refusing change when even horses
turn to drink the leaves
and feel the stiffness swim
into their hooves
when children swim in anything
a fading puddle or forgotten sprinkler
a shadow on the heated pavement
the alley cats flee
to soak up what still lingers
an October that stains
my son’s cheeks the color
fallen leaves should be
his bones refusing to slow
the way a horse’s would
but his curly mane tangled
wild and equine like
an animal or woman
a Russian peasant baba
and these her shortening days
to flee the fields and lift
her skirt to soak her legs
in salted water while
the trout and horse meats cure
and the pattypan pickles and milk fats
separate in cheesecloths hanging
from her oven racks
god’s gift to Poland they used to call it
but further east these weeks
of warmth and linger
must have been needed no less
so imagine my babas indoors
grandmothers of grandmothers
hardening in their bones
gasping for rain and chewing
on pine needles so today
my son could sprawl out
in a fountain and drink
the sun they left him