—Public Domain Photo
SONG FOR AUTUMN
—Mary Oliver (1935-2019)
In the deep fall
—Mary Oliver (1935-2019)
In the deep fall
of air and the endless
freshets of wind? And don’t you think
the trees themselves, especially those with mossy,
warm caves, begin to think
of the birds that will come—six, a dozen—to sleep
of the birds that will come—six, a dozen—to sleep
inside their bodies? And don’t you hear
the goldenrod whispering goodbye,
the everlasting being crowned with the first
tuffets of snow? The pond
vanishes, and the white field over which
the fox runs so quickly brings out
its blue shadows. And the wind pumps its
bellows. And at evening especially,
the piled firewood shifts a little,
longing to be on its way.
____________________
—Medusa
____________________
—Medusa
