December 6, 2013

A full moon shines Over the morning frost; The lanes are full of late-fallen leaves; Walking across the mulch Is almost as tricky As treading over ice.

—Gerald England


November 29, 2013

Lift ev’ry voice and sing, Till earth and heaven ring, Ring with the harmonies of Liberty; Let our rejoicing rise High as the list’ning skies.

—James Weldon Johnson


November 22, 2013

A democracy that has no monument of individual conscience in a sea of popular rule is not worthy to bear the name.

—John F. Kennedy


November 22, 2013

A democracy that has no monument of individual conscience in a sea of popular rule is not worthy to bear the name.

—John F. Kennedy


November 15, 2013

The last light of the sun Lies over the pasture Where sheep are grazing. Off toward the sea, Where the pasture dips to the dunes.

—Margaret Howe Freydberg


November 8, 2013

In Flanders Fields the poppies blow Between the crosses row on row, That mark our place; and in the sky The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard amid the guns below.

—John McCrae


November 1, 2013

With night coming early, And dawn coming late, And ice in the bucket And frost by the gate. The fires burn And the kettles sing, And earth sinks to rest Until next spring.

—Elizabeth Coatsworth


October 25, 2013

On the last of October When dusk is fallen Children join hands And circle round me Singing ghost songs And love to the harvest moon.

—Carl Sandburg


October 18, 2013

The day is yet one more yellow leaf and without turning I kiss the light by an old well on the last of the month gathering wild rose hips in the sun.

—W.S. Merwin


October 11, 2013

I mean if they’re running and they don’t look where they’re going I have to come out from somewhere and catch them. That’s all I do all day. I’d just be the catcher in the rye and all.

—JD Salinger


October 4, 2013

The breezes taste Of apple peel. The air is full Of smells to feel — Ripe fruit, old footballs, Burning brush, New books, erasers, Chalk, and such.

—John Updike


September 27, 2013

Under a blue cloud-ruffled sky, dense trees along the banks, and a fellow with a red bandana sitting in a small, green flat-bottom boat holding the thin whip of a pole.

—Billy Collins


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