November 21, 2014

Heap high the farmer’s wintry hoard! Heap high the golden corn! No richer gift has Autumn poured From out her lavish horn!

—John Greenleaf Whittier


November 14, 2014

We lie on the cold sand and it embraces us, this beach where locals never go in summer and boast of their absence.

—Marge Piercy


November 7, 2014

How silently they tumble down And come to rest upon the ground To lay a carpet, rich and rare, Beneath the trees without a care.

—Elsie N. Brady


October 31, 2014

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 24, 2014

Poor little Ada Queetie She used to do everything I told her, Let it be what it would, And knew every word I said to her.

—Nancy Luce


October 17, 2014

Wild geese stir in the early morning calm With a ripple of their wake. Far off, near the shore’s arm of dune that holds the pond, A kayak glides.

—Margaret Howe Freydberg


October 10, 2014

Smooth reflections of rock and tree, And out past the narrows a glimpse of sea? While I, of the scene a conscious part, Have a harbor for all in my welcoming heart.

—Charles Wharton Stork


October 3, 2014

It’s all a farce, — these tales they tell About the breezes sighing, And moans astir o’er field and dell, Because the year is dying.

—Paul Lawrence Dunbar


September 26, 2014

The milkweed pods are breaking, And the bits of silken down Float off upon the autumn breeze Across the meadows brown.

—Cecil Cavendish


September 19, 2014

I cannot endure to waste anything as precious as autumn sunshine by staying in the house. So I spend almost all the daylight hours in the open air.

—Nathaniel Hawthorne


September 12, 2014

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


September 5, 2014

Among the first we learn is good-bye, Your tiny wrist between Dad’s forefinger And thumb forced to wave bye-bye to Mom, Whose hand sails brightly behind a windshield.

—Julia Spicher Kasdorf


August 29, 2014

Across the evening sky all the birds are leaving But how can they know it’s time for them to go? Before the winter fire, I will still be dreaming.

—Sandy Denny


August 22, 2014

The year’s best blueberry scone Gorgeous needlework being shown Iron skillets being thrown We recall what has always made the Vineyard unique.

—Jerry Muskin


August 15, 2014

The paper lanterns rise, filled with golden fire, flaming specters devour our heaven sent desires.

—Peter W. Clark


August 8, 2014

I unclothed myself in silence, draped my flesh upon their flesh, released my dreams to run with theirs, in pairs our quiet clocks chimed in unison.

—Jennifer Tseng


August 1, 2014

When the blackberries hang swollen in the woods, in the brambles nobody owns, I spend all day among the high branches.

—Mary Oliver


July 25, 2014

In the dog days of summer as muslin curls on its own heat And crickets cry in the black walnut tree The wind lifts up my life And sets it some distance from where it was.

—Meena Alexander


July 18, 2014

I walk without flinching through the burning cathedral of the summer My bank of wild grass is majestic and full of music.  It is a fire that solitude presses against my lips.

—Violette Leduc


July 11, 2014

Between the dusk of a summer night And the dawn of a summer day, We caught at a mood as it passed in flight, And we bade it stoop and stay.

—William Ernest Henley


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