“October”

O hushed October morning mild,
Thy leaves have ripened to the fall;
Tomorrow’s wind, if it be wild,
Should waste them all.
The crows above the forest call;
Tomorrow they may form and go.
O hushed October morning mild,
Begin the hours of this day slow.
Make the day seem to us less brief.
Hearts not averse to being beguiled,
Beguile us in the way you know.
Release one leaf at break of day;
At noon release another leaf;
One from our trees, one far away.
Retard the sun with gentle mist;
Enchant the land with amethyst.
Slow, slow!
For the grapes’ sake, if they were all,
Whose leaves already are burnt with frost,
Whose clustered fruit must else be lost—
For the grapes’ sake along the wall.

~ Robert Frost

The first weeks of October are so lovely here in upstate New York. The day begins and ends with a bracing chill, but the hours in between are still warm enough to warrant little more than a flannel shirt. The grass is still green, but leaves everywhere have shed their greenness in favor of yellows, russets, and reds: Nature’s final burst of color. Leaves float to the ground all day, and some trees are already bare.

Frost’s poem speaks to my longing for Fall to tarry just a bit, to let those yellows, russets, and reds hold on to their trees perhaps a day longer than planned…slow! slow!