Don Thompson

Don Thompson (1942 - ) was born in Bakersfield, California and has lived in the southern San Joaquin Valley for most of his life. Retired from teaching in a nearby prison, he and his wife, Chris, live on her family’s cotton farm. He has published 6 volumes of poetry.

October

I used to think the land

had something to say to us

back when wildflowers

would come right up to your hand

as if they were tame.

Sooner or later, I thought,

the wind would begin to make sense

if I listened hard

and took notes religiously.

That was spring.

Now I’m not so sure:

the cloudless sky has a flat affect

and the fields plowed down after harvest

seem so expressionless,

keeping their own counsel.

This afternoon, nut tree leaves

blow across them

as if autumn had written us a long letter,

changed its mind,

and tore it into little scraps.

— Don Thompson