November 8, 2019

The world is a mist. And then the world is minute and vast and clear. The tide is higher or lower. He couldn’t tell you which.

—Elizabeth Bishop

November 1, 2019

Not yesterday I learned to know The love of bare November days Before the coming of the snow, But it were vain to tell her so, And they are better for her praise.

—Robert Frost

October 25, 2019

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, 2019

Nobody’s here — Only skunks, that search In the moonlight for a bite to eat. They march on their soles up Main Street: white stripes, moonstruck eyes’ red fire.

—Robert Lowell

October 11, 2019

The leaves fall, the wind blows, and the farm country slowly changes from the summer cottons into its winter wools.

—Henry Beston

October 4, 2019

Delicious autumn!  My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns.

—George Eliot

September 27, 2019

I’ll tell you where the four winds sleep Like four lean hounds the lighthouse keep Wildflower seed in the sand and wind May the four winds blow you home again.

—Robert Hunter

September 20, 2019

For man, autumn is a time of harvest, of gathering together. For nature, it is a time of sowing, of scattering abroad.

—Edwin Way Teale

September 13, 2019

Although you hide in the ebb and flow Of the pale tide when the moon has set, The people of coming days will know About the casting out of my net.

—William Butler Yeats

September 6, 2019

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

August 30, 2019

Now the time has come to leave you One more time Let me kiss you Then close your eyes I’ll be on my way.

—John Denver

August 23, 2019

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster of lost door keys, the hour badly spent. The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

—Elizabeth Bishop

August 16, 2019

O harvest of my lands! O boundless summer growths! O lavish, brown, parturient earth! O infinite, teeming womb!

—Walt Whitman

August 9, 2019

She is a friend of my mind. She gather me, man. The pieces I am, she gather them and give them back to me in all the right order.

—Toni Morrison

August 2, 2019

 Summer, do your worst! Light your tinsel moon, and call on Your performing stars to fall on Headlong through your paper sky. 

—Dorothy Parker

July 26, 2019

I envy the farmer's boy Who sings as he follows the plow; While the shining green of the young blades lean To the breezes that cool his brow.

—Paul Laurence Dunbar

July 19, 2019

High in the evening elm the robin tries his notes . . . To sleep, to sleep, while star by star the sky opens, and far and high eternity rides by.

—Charles Malam

July 12, 2019

Listen! you hear the grating roar Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling, At their return, up the high strand, Begin, and cease, and then again begin.

—Matthew Arnold

July 5, 2019

I’m a sailor ashore with stories to tell Who will hear me I pray? I have a voice and a soul all alone. Who will lend me a moment of ear?

—Conrad Neumann

June 28, 2019

Remember you are all people and all people are you. Remember you are this universe and this universe is you. Remember all is in motion, is growing, is you.

—Joy Harjo