Some thoughts on life of late
Hello, all. I’m happy to report that I’m very nearly at my goal of dropping 50 lbs this year! My two littles are by turns wonderful and hair-wrenching; I spend most of the day pulling Segundo down from the staircase and the other half of the day fishing toys and wads of paper out of the toilet. All that to say, I hope you’ll excuse me for being less than loquacious of late. I’ve been writing a good bit of material for my church, at least. Here’s an essay I wrote recently after hearing some sermons by Joe Thorn.
The weather has changed. I adore the autumn season, season of mists and mellow fruitfulness. Here are two poems for you about autumn.
by Carl Sandburg
I cried over beautiful things knowing no beautiful thing lasts.
The field of cornflower yellow is a scarf at the neck of the copper sunburned woman, the mother of the year, the taker of seeds.
The northwest wind comes and the yellow is torn full of holes, new beautiful things come in the first spit of snow on the northwest wind, and the old things go, not one lasts.
by Mary Hamrick
Autumn is like an old book:
Marred spines turn mean yellow,
staples rust red-orange.
Every stained page is stressed
by a splat of color. Rough-red,
like an old tavern,
we become hungry birds
and prepare for fall.
Shape and shadow are candied citron
as lanterns turn bitter yellow. Autumn
is a red fox, a goblet filled with dark wine,
a hot chilli pepper with smoky eyes.
Pressed leaves take in the colors
of seafood paella and saffron; these leaves
are like death, climaxing with a smile.
Autumn: Her dress is a net of mussels;
dark shelled, it covers up
summer’s weatherbeaten body.
So pull out your boots
and stand on an aged, wood floor
like an evergreen.