These Are the Days
    I thank Diane C. for introducing me to Emily Dickinson’s poetic celebration of Indian Summer. Diane recently recited the poem with great gusto in a Virginia mountain forest, and I enjoyed it very much.  Although the possibility of a real Indian Summer day is probably past, now that it is mid-November, I still want to share this lovely poem.–April Moore
These Are the Days When Birds Come Back
    by Emily Dickinson
These are the days when Birds come back -- A very few -- a Bird or two -- To take a backward look. These are the days when skies resume The old -- old sophistries of June -- A blue and gold mistake. Oh fraud that cannot cheat the Bee -- Almost thy plausibility Induces my belief. Till ranks of seeds their witness bear -- And softly thro' the altered air Hurries a timid leaf. Oh Sacrament of summer days, Oh Last Communion in the Haze -- Permit a child to join. Thy sacred emblems to partake -- Thy consecrated bread to take And thine immortal wine!
November 13th, 2009 at 9:14 am
Wonderful, April — and your photos always add so much to your posts. Thank you for enriching our lives.
November 13th, 2009 at 3:05 pm
I agree with Elizabeth and add this. Your pictures ARE poetry. You have a sensitive gift. Thank you for sharing this with us.
November 13th, 2009 at 7:46 pm
It is a lovely season. The poem and photo make me look forward to another autumn day to be admired tomorrow. Thanks!