October enlightened

Autumn days mental hystom,
transparent forest, foggy canvas,
away from a warm, cozy house,
you have to wander, with a sketch, in the morning.

They smelled their hands with turpentine,
a quilted jacket in paint, and wet,
but I look at beauty, for nothing,
and in this, even, I find a lesson.

And the forest has subsided
only leaves rustle
fallen from trees and bushes.
Theyre like sensual letters,
in which there are no bridges by the summer.