Blue Through October

Fall morning in the desert,
A more colorful summer,
Sun and blue turned mellower,
Benevolent dictators,
Strong, but with the common touch,
That moment in tyranny
When the tyrant seems folksy
And everything’s for the best.

She never cared about words
Enough to be a poet,
Or functions and equations
Enough for mathematics,
But she did love to count things,
And she adored odd phrasing.