|Original photo of the top of Sleeping Giant Mountain|
Autumn is undeniably my favorite season. The air gets crisper and the leaves change into a display that is as impressive as any work of art.
When November comes around, the big question is when the red and orange treetops will disappear. A few years ago, we had a snowstorm in Connecticut before Halloween, which weighed down the trees — many of which were still “blooming.” This year, it’s the first week of November and I’m still looking up.
“Autumn Movement” by Carl Sandburg perfectly captures that feeling of “how long will it last.” He doesn’t waste any space, choosing to start off with tears. The poem is short but between the first and last stanza, you feel both anxiety and wonder. The image of ‘cornflower yellow’ leaves is destroyed by a reminder that Nature will tear them off one by one (‘not one lasts’).
It’s over before it starts, but every word is worth it. Just like watching the seasons change — I know it will happen but I can’t help that melancholy feeling when it does.
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