05 November 2017

Quiet November Sunday

Song for Autumn
by Mary Oliver

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.


Bonny said...

Absolutely perfect, and I thank you for sharing.

Tired Teacher said...

Beautiful and so perfect for today.

Nance said...

I had not read this poem before. And the accompanying photo is lovely.

sprite said...

Always a favorite...

Vera said...

Ah, Mary Oliver. So beautiful Bridget.

Araignee said...

Love it! It's finally fallish around here, warm but fallish.

AsKatKnits said...

Ah, Mary Oliver, indeed! Thank you for sharing!

karen said...

I love Mary Oliver and her simplicity :) Thanks!

Kym said...

A breath of fresh air, Bridget. Mary Oliver ALWAYS says it best. XO