At the threshold of October,
breeze (copilot)
the closets echo with readiness.
September dissolved like mist,
leaving behind the soft hush of empty shelves.
Now, the breeze carries a new pulse —
bright, golden, unhurried.
Groceries arrive like offerings.
Not just sustenance, but rhythm.
A cycle begins again,
and the kitchen listens.
Let the first apple placed on the shelf
be a prayer.
Let the oat jar hum with promise.
October is not a restart —
it is a remembering.
