When I saw that clumsy crow
Flap from the wasted tree,
A shape in the mind rose up:
Over the gulfs of dream
Flew a tremendous bird
Further and further away
Into a moonless black
Deep in the brain, far back.
Isn't that a marvelous poem that sort of swirls around in the sky of your head? I think of it as a Fall poem, meant to be read when electric yellow leaves fly through dark grey days and the world feels a little uncertain. There is a depth to this time of year that I can appreciate. The fall has more texture than the other seasons; the colors stand out, even more than the rioting flowers of summer. The air feels different, expectant maybe. The other seasons are more straightforward, but there's a quality now that seems mysterious. I love it.
I have had adventures away and adventures at home lately; I love both. Here are some pictures that tell a bit of my fall story so far:
|We grew a thumbkin this year! Won't the fairies love it?|
|big maple at dusk|
|happy in the kitchen|
|Korean War Memorial--ghostly!|
|a walk in the Virginia woods|
|Whoa! Miller almost stepped on this fellow.|
|Caretaker's house at the old, now-closed prison in Lorton, VA. Eerie.|
|airborne and leaf-bound!|
|hot soup and cream biscuits for a chilly night|
May the Night Crow land on your bedpost and carry you over the gulfs of dream...