Friday, November 07, 2014


Today's cracked corn brought them winging up 
from their flotilla that glides under the willow.
I often try to capture them in flight, but it is tricky!

When I hang out outdoors, I often think of Wendell Berry. Here is one of his outdoor poems.

October 10

Now constantly there is the sound,
quieter than rain,
of the leaves falling.

Under their loosening bright
gold, the sycamore limbs
beach whiter.

Now the only flowers
are beeweed and aster, spray
of their white and lavender
over the brown leaves.

The calling of a crow sounds
loud---a landmark---now
that the life of summer falls
silent, and the nights grow.

Wendell Berry
New Collected Poems, Counterpoint, 2012, page 63. 
(Kindle Edition)

Two three-line stanzas, then two four-line stanzas, simple and effective. 
Sleep well as the nights grow

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