Thursday, September 13, 2012

Time to Pause for Rejoicing:


Breakfast at the Old Auto Dealership

Rapture at radiance shining through plate glass ~
Earlier an automobile showroom ~
Gives power to dispel the thoughts of Doom
Overwhelming that so rarely pass.

Realizing petty things consume
Needlessly our very precious time ~
Edging timidly from the sublime ~
Hurtling inevitably towards the Tomb.

The inventive use of common space, like rhyme,
Enlivens as the sun glows in the hedges
Framing the old showroom with green ledges.
Elegant umbrellas red and lime ~

Romantic looking ~ ensconced on the pavement ~
Transcend the nagging feelings of bereavement.

~ FreeThinke - Autumn, 2009


  1. Thank you, AOW!

    The Lawson card is truly beautiful by the way -- and much appreciated.

    I hope others will click on your link and enjoy it too.

    I'm thinking of Amber -- who as such perfect fall coloring -- and praying she gets through this morning's ordeal with flying colors and will soon be joining you at her new home.

    ~ FT

  2. Edna St. Vincent Millay, "Autumn Chant"

    Now the autumn shudders
    In the rose's root.
    Far and wide the ladders
    Lean among the fruit.

    Now the autumn clambers
    Up the trellised frame,
    And the rose remembers
    The dust from which it came.

    Brighter than the blossom
    On the rose's bough
    Sits the wizened orange,
    Bitter berry now.

    Beauty never slumbers;
    All is in her name;
    But the rose remembers
    The dust from which it came.

  3. Thank you for reminding me of Millay, Ducky.

    Very nice, indeed, though tinged with melancholy as always, but what lyric poetry is not? I can think of few examples.

    This is the one of hers I remember most easily and like best:


    We were very tired, we were very merry —
    We had gone back and forth all night on the ferry.
    It was bare and bright, and smelled like a stable—
    But we looked into a fire, we leaned across a table,
    We lay on a hill-top underneath the moon;
    And the whistles kept blowing, and the dawn came soon.

    We were very tired, we were very merry —
    We had gone back and forth all night on the ferry;
    And you ate an apple, and I ate a pear,
    From a dozen of each we had bought somewhere;
    And the sky went wan, and the wind came cold,
    And the sun rose dripping, a bucketful of gold.

    We were very tired, we were very merry,
    We had gone back and forth all night on the ferry.
    We hailed "Good morrow, mother!" to a shawl-covered head,
    And bought a morning paper, which neither of us read;
    And she wept, "God bless you!" for the apples and pears,
    And we gave her all our money but our subway fares.

    ~ Edna St. Vincent Millay

  4. Talk about all the vowels being in the right place.

  5. It's so ***** hot here and humid lately that Autumn (my very fave season) can't get here soon enough for me.

    Oh, to wear a sweater again!!

  6. I would dare to say Autumn isn't really autumn, unless it's experienced in the northeastern United States.

    Of course, fall hasn't really been fall anywhere ever since the Powers-that-Be forced us to stop the annual ritual of raking and burning leaves in the gutter -- a delight from my childhood the memory of which I shall cherish till the day I die.

    And then there was the rustic old farm with the big apple orchard "way out in the country" to which we used to get lost making happy pilgrimages to buy bushels full of fresh-plcked apples and gallon jugs of fresh-pressed cider they sold for 1¢ a cup -- that's right - ONE CENT.

    That farm, set amidst gentle, rolling hills, was surrounded by dry stone walls, and had the most beautiful red barn with a magnificent fieldstone foundation. The family sold generous bunches of brightly colored "Indian Corn," along with pumpkins and several varieties of hard-shelled squash. Everything they sold was grown on the premises back then.

    Wonderful, wonderful memories!

    Sadly, the last time I looked, al the land had been sold off and filled in with cookie-cutter development houses, and the barn had been taken over, brought "up to date" and outfitted as a tacky restaurant called Noodles in Haystack.

    Another piece of damning evidence proving the case that we have squandered and perverted our heritage -- "sold our birthright for a mess of pottage."

    I feel so bad for today's children! They will not have anything even-remotely-like the beautiful times I enjoy looking back upon.

    ~ FreeThinke



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