Morning Thanks

Garrison Keillor once said we'd all be better off if we all started the day by giving thanks for just one thing. I'll try.

Wednesday, October 12, 2016

"October 10" by Wendell Berry

Now constantly there is the sound,
quieter than rain,
of the leaves falling.

Under their loosening bright
gold, the sycamore limbs
bleach whiter.

Now the only flowers
are beeweed and aster, spray
of their white and lavender
over the brown leaves.

The calling of a crow sounds
Loud — landmark — now
that the life of summer falls
silent, and the nights grow.


Poem from Writers Almanac, photos from northern Minnesota, ten years ago.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Crows are regarded as messengers in the world of Native Americans. Listen in the silence and you'll hear his message.