Ahh…the chill in the air, the glorious color across the landscape, the crisp leaves beneath my feet. Autumn is arriving. My favorite season. It is a relief from the brutal summer heat and a respite before the blustery cold of winter that will be here all too soon. But let me stay in the present. Right now. And indulge in autumn…and some poetry.
Song for Autumn by Mary Olive
In the deep fall
don’t you imagine the leaves think how
comfortable it will be to touch
the earth instead of the
nothingness of air and the endless
freshets of wind? And don’t you think
the trees themselves, especially those with mossy,
warm caves, begin to think
of the birds that will come — six, a dozen — to sleep
inside their bodies? And don’t you hear
the goldenrod whispering goodbye,
the everlasting being crowned with the first
tuffets of snow? The pond
vanishes, and the white field over which
the fox runs so quickly brings out
its blue shadows. And the wind pumps its
bellows. And at evening especially,
the piled firewood shifts a little,
longing to be on its way.
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