Monday, October 01, 2007

October

A new month

beginning with a rainbow promise

seems like an invitation to begin again


When gentians roll their fingers tight

To save them for the morning,

And chestnuts fall from satin burrs

Without a sound of warning;
When on the ground red apples lie

In piles like jewels shining,

And redder still on old stone walls

Are leaves of woodbine twining;
When all the lovely wayside things

Their white-winged seeds are sowing,

And in the fields still green and fair,

Late aftermaths are growing;
When springs run low, and on the brooks,

In idle golden freighting,

Bright leaves sink noiseless in the hush

Of woods, for winter waiting;
When comrades seek sweet country haunts,

By twos and twos together,

And count like misers, hour by hour,

October's bright blue weather.

- Helen Hunt Jackson, October's Bright Blue Weather

6 Comments:

Blogger Pam in Tucson said...

What a wonderful surprise to see "Endment" in bold on my bloglines list. Welcome back! The stars are burning brighter in Tucson tonight and my heart sings to know that I'll be reading your poetry and viewing your photos again.

11:22 PM  
Blogger ...deb said...

Beautiful poem and so lovely to see your post.

I wander in occasionally, and as much as I like the grey squirrel, it is nice to see the bear!

4:59 PM  
Blogger Endment said...

pam in tucson
thanks for your comment. I have been missing your posts!

deb
thanks for visiting and for commenting - The bear has been a frequent visitor for the past few weeks - I suspect he will be around until it gets really cold

12:18 AM  
Anonymous Claude said...

Oh, Endment! It's so good to have you back! Thanks for this beautiful photo and poem

4:24 AM  
Blogger TaraDharma said...

beautiful poem. I was just posting about October, and remembering that the sky is a very particular bright shade of blue...and here it is echoed in this poem.

This poem so exquistely captures autumn...thanks for sharing it with us.

12:47 PM  
Blogger Cathy said...

My mother and I were 'googling' a poem she remembered from her childhood that contained the words 'asters by the brook-side'. She was so delighted when I found Helen Hunt Jackson's 'September'. I'll be reading her this poem the next time we're together.

Thanks. Welcome back.

9:01 PM  

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