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Autumn, Again

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Sometimes driving in to work can be heartbreakingly breathtaking this time of year. A tree has shed its red leaves onto the highway, another is just starting to turn. Autumn, and its accompanying adjective, autumnal, carry weight, invoking age, splendor, a finality before the hush of winter snowfall. I have said this already, in another post.

This was one of the songs I listened to, “Morning Celebration” by Karunesh:

http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=GKYIC2MPjO0

As always, here is Keats  “To Autumn” read by Ben Wishaw.

http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=cKhX_DP1knU

And the text:

http://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/autumn?mbd=1

For me, Autumn means I let go of my manuscript, write words, not paragraphs, let email overtake my mornings.  The practice of the summer has fled.  My students start workshop in one class, and in another, we discuss Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s short story, “The Yellow Wallpaper.”

There is an abundance of readings and performances as the season gears up, and these days, the bus is packed.

I subsist some days on granola bars and coffee, before coming home an hour, now two, before bedtime.  The cats are hungry, as am I, for dinner.

My dinner is leftovers, if I planned ahead, or grilled cheese.  Soon
will come my ambition to roast squash, make soup. Autumn dreams of a kind.

Seasonal Change

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The leaves are changing.  More and more

I see red patches over-taking the green, even as the Google Doodle

has let us know, for two days now,

that autumn is here.

How fresh the green was

back in the spring, how voluptuous

the reds and purples of summer.

Autumn  delivers fire to burn away growth.

Winter will cleanse out the palate,

give us a blank slate

to rest our eyes.

What I Noticed on the Way

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Two hours to head out of Boston traffic today.

That’s all.

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