October
AY, thou art welcome, heaven’s delicious breath! When woods begin to wear the crimson leaf,
And suns grow meek, and the meek suns grow brief
And the year smiles as it draws near its death. Wind of the sunny south! oh, still delay
In the gay woods and in the golden air,
Like to a good old age released from care,
Journeying, in long serenity, away.
In such a bright, late quiet, would that I
Might wear out life like thee, ‘mid bowers and brooks
And dearer yet, the sunshine of kind looks,
And music of kind voices ever nigh;
And when my last sand twinkled in the glass,
Pass silently from men, as thou dost pass.
By: William Cullen Bryant
Painted Pink Sky
My eyes set their gaze across the horizon
The sun is setting in late fall afternoon
Cold snap in the air as the leaves swirl about
A welcoming view is the painted pink sky
Streaks of pale blue dotted with white
Have been suddenly brushed with a soft pastel
The beauty is breathtaking, such natural artistry
I am in awe of the painted pink sky
I think of you now, how magnificent it would be
To find ultimate and much needed serenity
Wrapped up in your strong arms in loves sweet embrace
To be held by you under the painted pink sky
~ by Lillian Jamison
Fall Song
Another year gone, leaving everywhere
its rich spiced residues: vines, leaves,
the uneaten fruits crumbling damply
in the shadows, unmattering back
from the particular island
of this summer, this NOW, that now is nowhere
except underfoot, moldering
in that black subterranean castle
of unobservable mysteries – – -roots and sealed seeds
and the wanderings of water. This
I try to remember when time’s measure
painfully chafes, for instance when autumn
flares out at the last, boisterous and like us longing
to stay – – – how everything lives, shifting
from one bright vision to another, forever
in these momentary pastures.
~ by Mary Oliver
turned onto to Lillian Jamison poem by Our Little Acre blog
