Sweet October

October is sweet.
Surprisingly so since he is a child of the night.
He resides where shadows keep their secrets.
He rests protected by their yawning shade.

One. Two. Three.
There goes October, scrambling all around.
He is a child playing and dancing with the moonlight.
Yet his ancient eyes are ever wandering about.

Ah, sweet October has come to roost at last.
His lids droopy with unimaginable fright.
What could he have seen at night?
Could he have feared the arrival of light?