Ray Bradbury, R.I.P.

The beloved monarch of the October Country died on Tuesday.  Ray Bradbury was 91.

The passing of such a venerable figure makes for an undeniably sad occasion, but can't overshadow the incredible legacy the man has left.  Ray Bradbury had an extraordinary imagination, and he was kind enough to share it with the rest of us.  The best way we can honor the author today is by delving back into his oeuvre, by cracking open one of his novels, re-reading a cherished story, watching a favorite episode of The Ray Bradbury Theater or one of the films based on his works.  Reminding ourselves, in the process, of the charms of Bradbury's narrative magic...

And while this might be the season of dandelion wine, I offer the following poem (first posted here last October as part of Ray Bradbury Month) in memoriam:

October Ode 

For these we should be thankful a whole month earlier:

Halloween tree fruitful with frightful pumpkins.
Homecoming of every monster imaginable for a holiday bash.
Black Ferris wheel Methuselah-lizing anyone who rides too long.
Dead man living in the streets, solicited as a scary party prop.
Emissary dog digging up more than bones in the cemetery.
Playing “poison” leading to a grave outcome for some.
Witch-viscera passed gamesomely around a circle in the cellar dark.
Calliope siren song--helluva good time at the Pandemonium Show.

Sundry country scenes, of misted rivers and midnights persistent,

And all the autumn people on parade, manifold as skittering leaves.
So forget Reggie Jackson and his series of Fall Classic homers;
Ray Bradbury will always be the one and only Mr. October.