Yesterday was the first official day of Autumn, and it just so happened to be a picture perfect day where everything was “just right” – the soft blanket of blue sky, the sunny warm and still air, the full-blossomed, perfectly poised purple petunias. But “just right” never stays long – things change as nature, a “trustworthy guide”*, shows us season to season as we now watch the coming and going of summer to autumn. The turning of leaves into an exhilarating brilliance ends with a falling into a cooler, darker, and heavier season. The lightness, openness and warmth of summer has departed leaving behind the “meeker” chillier mornings that Emily Dickinson wrote about in her poem about autumn below:
The morns are meeker than they were, The nuts are getting brown; The berry’s cheek is plumper, The rose is out of town.
The maple wears a gayer scarf, The field a scarlet gown. Lest I should be old-fashioned, I’ll put a trinket on. Read more
T.S. Eliot once wrote in the opening line of his great poem, The Waste Land, that “April is the cruelest month.” How keenly and acutely we felt that cruelty this spring after such a long, hard winter.
On this last day of April, however, we prefer to enter Merry May on a warm, gentle note, “digging into” an assortment of poetry in celebration and recognition of April as the official “National Month of Poetry.” Read more