October

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Dead Leaves

“October” by Robert Frost

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.

Remembering Saner Times

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Make My President Black Again

At the last protest march my husband and I attended, he took this picture. All I can say in response to this man’s t-shirt is “Amen.” You don’t truly appreciate intelligent, rational discourse, presidential integrity, compassion or a president’s impeccable sense of humor until those things are gone. We are living in a time of stark contrasts, hoping the pendulum will swing us back toward sanity and an opportunity to restore all that’s being torn down, torn asunder, or trampled.

Poetry Month

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Ample Make This Bed

Ample make this bed.
Make this bed with awe;
In it wait till judgment break
Excellent and fair.

Be its mattress straight,
Be its pillow round;
Let no sunrise’ yellow noise
Interrupt this ground.