Archives for posts with tag: autumn

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NOVEMBER HAIKU
by Jack Kerouac

Leaves falling everywhere
in the November
Midnight moonshine

PHOTO: “Autumn leaves in the moonlight” by Ray Christie, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

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NOVEMBER
Poem by Elizabeth Coatsworth

November comes
And November goes,
With the last red berries
And the first white snows.

With night coming early,
And dawn coming late,
And ice in the bucket
And frost by the gate.

The fires burn
And the kettles sing,
And earth sinks to rest
Until next spring.

PAINTING: “November Landscape” by Charles Eaton (185701937)

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HALLOWEEN HAIKU
by C. Muckley

Orange moon rising
Casts black-cat shadows along
the dimly lit path

PHOTO: “Pumpkin Moon, Tennessee River (Decatur, Alabama)” by Gary Cosby, Jr., ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

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October 31, 2013 marks the 218th anniversary of the birth of British poet John Keats. Let’s celebrate the occasion with his paean to the fall season.

TO AUTUMN (Excerpt)
by John Keats

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
   Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
   With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,
   And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
      To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
   With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
      For summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells…

…Read “To Autumn” in its entirety at poetryfoundation.org.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: John Keats (1795–1821) was an English poet, one of the main figures of the second generation of Romantic poets along with Lord Byron and Percy Bysshe Shelley. His reputation grew after his death from tuberculosis at age 25, and by the end of the 19th century he was one of the most beloved of all English poets. He had a significant influence on a diverse range of poets and writers, including Jorge Luis Borges, who stated that his first encounter with Keats was the most significant literary experience of his life. (Read more at wikipedia.org.)

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THE MAPLE TREES
by Noin Hoshi

Mount Mimuro sends its winds
Down upon the maple trees
To carry off the colored leaves
And work crimson patterns
Upon the stream of Tatsuta. 

Photo: Eshelton Wilder, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

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FALL
by Edward Hirsch

Fall, falling, fallen. That’s the way the season
Changes its tense in the long-haired maples
That dot the road; the veiny hand-shaped leaves
Redden on their branches (in a fiery competition
With the final remaining cardinals) and then
Begin to sidle and float through the air, at last
Settling into colorful layers carpeting the ground.
At twilight the light, too, is layered in the trees
In a season of odd, dusky congruences—a scarlet tanager
And the odor of burning leaves, a golden retriever
Loping down the center of a wide street and the sun
Setting behind smoke-filled trees in the distance,
A gap opening up in the treetops and a bruised cloud
Blamelessly filling the space with purples. Everything
Changes and moves in the split second between summer’s
Sprawling past and winter’s hard revision, one moment
Pulling out of the station according to schedule,
Another moment arriving on the next platform. It
Happens almost like clockwork: the leaves drift away
From their branches and gather slowly at our feet,
Sliding over our ankles, and the season begins moving
Around us even as its colorful weather moves us,
Even as it pulls us into its dusty, twilit pockets.
And every year there is a brief, startling moment
When we pause in the middle of a long walk home and
Suddenly feel something invisible and weightless
Touching our shoulders, sweeping down from the air:
It is the autumn wind pressing against our bodies;
It is the changing light of fall falling on us.

PAINTING: “Autumn Maple” by Eric Bachman. Prints available at fineartamerica.com.

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AUTUMN MOVEMENT
by Carl Sandburg

I cried over beautiful things knowing no beautiful thing lasts.

The field of cornflower yellow is a scarf at the neck of the copper sunburned woman, the mother of the year, the taker of seeds.

The northwest wind comes and the yellow is torn full of holes, new beautiful things come in the first spit of snow on the northwest wind, and the old things go, not one lasts.

PAINTING: “Wheat Field with Reaper and Sun” by Vincent van Gogh (1889).

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AUTUMN GRASSES
by Margaret Gibson

In fields of bush clover and hay-scent grass
the autumn moon takes refuge
The cricket’s song is gold

Zeshin’s loneliness taught him this

Who is coming?
What will come to pass, and pass?

Neither bruise nor sweetness nor cool air
not-knowing
knows the way

And the moon?
Who among us does not wander, and flare
and bow to the ground?

Who does not savor, and stand open
if only in secret

taking heart in the ripening of the moon?

(Shibata Zeshin, Autumn Grasses, two-panel screen)

ILLUSTRATION: “Autumn Grasses in Moonlight” (ink, lacquer, and silver leaf on paper) by Shibata Zeshin (1807-1891).

ILLUSTRATION CREDIT: The Metropolitan Museum of Art, The Harry G. C. Packard Collection of Asian Art, Gift of Harry G. C. Packard, and Purchase, Fletcher, Rogers, Harris Brisbane Dick, and Louis V. Bell Funds, Joseph Pulitzer Bequest, and The Annenberg Fund Inc. Gift, 1975.

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THE HALLOWEEN TREE (Excerpt)

by Ray Bradbury

It was a small town by a small river and a small lake in a small northern part of a Midwest state. There wasn’t so much wilderness around you couldn’t see the town. But on the other hand there wasn’t so much town you couldn’t see and feel and touch and smell the wilderness. The town was full of trees. And dry grass and dead flowers now that autumn was here. And full of fences to walk on and sidewalks to skate on and a large ravine to tumble in and yell across. And the town was full of…

Boys.
And it was the afternoon of Halloween.
And all the houses shut against a cool wind.
And the town was full of cold sunlight.
But suddenly, the day was gone.
Night came out from under each tree and spread.

BOOK DESCRIPTION: Eight boys set out on a Halloween night and are led into the depths of the past by a tall, mysterious character named Moundshroud. They ride on a black wind to autumn scenes in distant lands and times, where they witness other ways of celebrating this holiday about the dark time of year.

This 160-page illustrated book is available for $5.39 at Amazon.com.

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AUTUMN OFFERING

by Judith A. Lawrence

I shall be Autumn

this Halloween,

with leaf draped skirt,

and folds of

boysenberry velvet wine

flowing to the ground.


 
Brown stained face,

eyes rimmed in gold,

nails dripping sunset,

a crown of twigs

to cover my head.


 
You may gather from me

the spring of my youth,

my summer of maturity,

and hold onto with me,

the solace of these days

of remembering

before the frost.

ILLUSTRATION: “Gothic Arch, Autumn Glow” by Linda Boston, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED