Mind on Fire Books

October arrives not with a bang, but with a breath. A hush. A soft invocation.

At Mind on Fire, we mark the turning of seasons not just with calendars, but with poetry. And few poems summon the spirit of October more gently—or more urgently—than Robert Frost’s “October.” Written in 1913 and now in the public domain, it’s a quiet spell cast on time itself.

October by Robert Frost

O hushed October morning mild, 
Thy leaves have ripened to the fall; 
Tomorrow’s wind, if it be wild, 
Should waste them all. 
The crows above the forest call; 
Tomorrow they may form and go.

O hushed October morning mild, 
Begin the hours of this day slow, 
Make the day seem to us less brief. 
Hearts not averse to being beguiled, 
Beguile us in the way you know; 
Release one leaf at break of day; 
At noon release another leaf; 
One from our trees, one far away.

Retard the sun with gentle mist; 
Enchant the land with amethyst. 
Slow, slow! 
For the grapes’ sake, if they were all 
Whose leaves already are burnt with frost, 
Whose clustered fruit must else be lost— 
For the grapes’ sake along the wall.

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Frost’s October: A Liturgical Reading of Time

This isn’t just a pastoral meditation. It’s a ritual. Frost pleads with the month to slow its unraveling, to stretch the hours like incense smoke. He doesn’t ask for permanence—he knows the leaves will fall, the crows will go—but he asks for grace in the letting go.

The poem’s rhythm mimics the season’s own cadence: deliberate, elegiac, enchanted. Each line is a liturgical gesture:

• “Release one leaf at break of day…” — a sacred offering.
• “Retard the sun with gentle mist…” — a prayer for delay.
• “Slow, slow! For the grapes’ sake…” — a final plea for mercy.

October, in Frost’s hands, becomes a priestess of transition. She doesn’t halt decay, but she sanctifies it.

The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost

How to Read October Like a Ritual

At Mind on Fire, we believe literature isn’t just read—it’s lived. So here’s how to turn Frost’s invocation into a daily rite:

• Begin slow. Resist the rush. Let your morning unfold like a leaf drifting from a branch.
• Observe the mist. Whether literal or metaphorical, let it soften your edges.
• Honor the harvest. Grapes, squash, words—whatever you’ve cultivated, protect it.
• Write one line. Just one. At dawn or dusk. A leaf of language released into the world.

October is not a month to conquer. It’s a month to be beguiled by.

Thank you for visiting with me. For more Poetry or Literature related content, visit my blog at The Ritual. Copyright Mind on Fire Books.

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