Wednesday, October 21, 2009


The sound of your voice,
strong and kind,
echoes through the day,
through the night.
You may be out of sight,
but never out of mind.


"October's poplars are flaming torches lighting the way to winter."

-- Nova Bair

October Sky

"The sweet calm sunshine of October now warms the low spot; upon its grassy mold the purple oak-leaf falls; the birchen bough drops its bright spoil like arrow-heads of gold."

-- William Cullen Bryant

Wood elves

"The birds have less to say for themselves
In the wood-world’s torn despair
Than now these numberless years the elves,
Although they are no less there:
All song of the woods is crushed like some
Wild, easily shattered rose.
Come, be my love in the wet woods; come,
Where the boughs rain when it blows."

--from A Line-Storm Song by Robert Frost