The Beginning of Fall

I had not planned on writing an observation about nature today, but it happened nonetheless.

Some leaves in my area are already changing to their fall festival refinement. Every time I see this, I wonder about the fall in my own life and will I in my cooling climate refinement of nouns, verbs and connecting phrases of poetry be able to splash as much momentary color as nature.

Poet Robert Frost did!

I’ve always loved what Frost wrote about the fall. I know it’s not October, but it is still one of my favorite poems.

O hushed October morning mild,
Thy leaves have ripened to the fall;
To-morrow's wind, if it be wild,
Should waste them all.
The crows above the forest call;
To-morrow they may form and go.
O hushed October morning mild,
Begin the hours of this day slow,
Make the day seem to us less brief.
Hearts not averse to being beguiled,
Beguile us in the way you know;
Release one leaf at break of day;
At noon release another leaf;
One from our trees, one far away;
Retard the sun with gentle mist;
Enchant the land with amethyst.
Slow, slow!
For the grapes' sake, if they were all,
Whose leaves already are burnt with frost,
Whose clustered fruit must else be lost--
For the grapes' sake along the wall.

I hope you take the time to read his words slowly. Twice. Savor the cadence, taste the alternating couplets of his rhyme and then bask in the imagery of his eloquence.

And have a perfect Labor Day.