October Hips

October hips have ripened

They'll go into jars and bottles and liquids to soak

in a honey-brandy cloak

but others are not to be harnessed for such uses.

They dangle on canes and wave temptingly

slow with a seasoned swagger like Marilyn

wearing flame red

on a bed of blue sky sheets with white fluffy

pillows and spooky moon nightcaps.

From arms in the wind they shimmy

in rhythms from the far east

with bronzed skin and burgundy skirts

they quiver in Autumn induced showers

and sighs

with long legged undressing thighs

of cherry bark trunks

and spellbinding skies.

October's sweet bribes

like a wine tasting for my eyes

and reprieve from redundancy

gemstones on mountains

elixirs of beauty..

On tiptoes of petioles

hips ripen sweet after frost

into memories and jars they will go

to be sipped, and savored,

forever not lost to my taste

for lusty sips of earth on my lips;

October's hips

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