Thursday, September 24, 2020

Thursday Poem - Song of Autumn

 
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.

Mary Oliver

2 comments:

Barbara Rogers said...

Ahhh, another wonderful poem from Mary Oliver.I've read this several times this week, and it always sings. I hope your Thursday is simply wonderful.

christinalfrutiger said...

Such a rich, beautiful photograph!