I'm Thankful for Poetry

AUTUMN MOVEMENT
by Carl Sandburg

I cried over beautiful things knowing no beautiful thing lasts.

The field of cornflower yellow is a scarf at the neck of the copper sunburned woman, the mother of the year, the taker of seeds.

The northwest wind comes and the yellow is torn full of holes, new beautiful things come in the first spit of snow on the northwest wind, and the old things go, not one lasts.

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more autumn poetry here.
picture by me.

Thanksgiving for me is pretty much like this still.
Only this year I'm making chunky ginger applesauce, too.

May there be much to be thankful for in your life!
Blessed be.


)O(