Paul Christensen: The Bennie Thompson Crusade
The closing remarks of Bennie Thompson were so pure in their simplicity and directness, I had to hold my breath.
Paul Christensen: The Leaden Hat of Fall
Once in a while the tufted sky would break open into dazzling radiance. I would often look up from my reading to behold a waterfall of fiery light, as if the Golden Fleece were hanging in a waterfall shedding all its precious minerals into the valley below.
Paul Christensen: The Old Year in my Hand
I am beginning to believe democracy survived a profound crisis, and is about to show that a flimsy idea proved itself as durable as the trunk of an ancient maple tree.
Paul Christensen: The Testament of Winter
The wind last night was fierce and numbingly cold. It moved like a carving knife through the remaining remnants of summer, easing away the reluctant last memories we have of the warm and sunny past.
Paul Christensen: The October Twilight
Leaf by leaf, the sky unfolds its ancient sunlight and lets the fragments of history drift to the ground, one broken fact at a time. How difficult it is to gather up the ruins of time and try to make sense of what we are — the foreground we emerged from, the burden of our legacy as inheritors of shame and guilt.
Bertha Rogers: What Want Brings
Gray rain seeps through the fall
of played-out clouds, loops among hills,
ragged mountains; flexes and thins cut, contoured fields.
Arlene Weiner: November
He tears off summer’s dress,
exposes trunk and limb, threatens
worse coming. Yet he brings gifts…
Karen Friedland: Gone
Gone is the old grove of green trees
…
Gone is the once-young, dancing body I had
Robert Frost: “Out, Out—”
The buzz-saw snarled and rattled in the yard
And made dust and dropped stove-length sticks of wood,
Sweet-scented stuff when the breeze drew across it.
John Keats: To Autumn
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 … Continue reading
Elizabeth Romero: Carrying a Sign
Leaves on the wind circle in the air Like emissaries from another world Frantic warnings No one heeds them, they Push toward their usual destinations With their everyday faces … Continue reading
Paul Christensen: After the Equinox
It’s fall here in southern France. The tourists have thinned out to a trickle of rubbernecks aiming their smart phones at almost anything green or shaggy with vines. They hardly … Continue reading
Paul Christensen: The Fall Weather
The first chill of autumn is threading its way through the trees, like a brown yarn among the dense green flags. It’s exhilarating. I’m happy. I don’t care how many … Continue reading
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