Gently curving, these glowing evening leaves create a sense of timelessness. With their golden brown, yellow and phosphorus purple edges, these leaves capture the essence of autumn.
Inspirational Poems
Autumn Memories
George Francis Savage-Armstrong (b. 1845)
WHEN russet beech-leaves drift in air,
And withering bracken gilds the ling,
And red haws brighten hedgerows bare,
And only plaintive robins sing;
When autumn whirlwinds curl the sea,
And mountaintops are cold with haze,
Then saddest thoughts revisit me,—
I sit and dream of the olden days.
When chestnut-leaves lie yellow on ground,
And brown nuts break the prickled husk,
And nests on naked boughs are found,
And swallows shrill no more at dusk,
And folks are glad in house to be,
And up the flue the faggots blaze,
Then climb my little boys my knee
To hear me tell of the olden days.
Autumn Leaves
by Aileen Fisher
One of the nicest beds I know
isn't a bed of soft white snow,
isn't a bed of cool green grass
after the noisy mowers grass,
isn't a bed of yellow hay
making me itch for all a day--
but autumn leaves in a pile that high,
deep, and smelling like fall, and dry.
That's the bed where I like to lie
and watch the flutters go by.
Love Autumnal
By: Oliver Jenkins
MY love will come in autumn-time
When leaves go spinning to the ground
And wistful stars in heaven chime
With the leaves’ sound.
Then, we shall walk through dusty lanes
And pause beneath low-hanging boughs,
And there, while soft-hued beauty reigns
We’ll make our vows.
Let others seek in spring for sighs
When love flames forth from every seed;
But love that blooms when dies
Is love indeed!
The Fist
By Mary Oliver, (Thirst)
There are days
when the sun goes down
like a fist,
though of course
if you see anything
in the heavens this way
you had better get
your eyes checked
or, better still,
your diminished spirit.
The heavens
have no fist,
or wouldn't they have been
shaking it
for a thousand years now,
and even
longer than that,
at the dull, brutish
ways of mankind -
heaven's own
creation?
Instead: such patience!
Such willingness
to let us continue!
To hear,
little by little,
the voices -
only, so far, in
pockets of the world -
suggesting the possibilities
of peace?
Keep looking.
Behold, how the fist opens
with invitation.