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| (Moxham Mountain, Minerva, New York) |
Many of you know that I am obsessive about colored leaves. I spot them the minute they appear, and
I keep looking until the last one falls to the ground. Since I have written a few blog posts in the past about fall foliage, I have decided to let Emily Dickinson write this year's. I tried to pick lines from her poems that illustrate my photographs. I hope you enjoy this photo poem from Emily and me.
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| (Kennebunkport, Maine) |
Besides the Autumn poets sing,
A few prosaic Days
A little this side of the snow
And that side of the Haze --
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| (Calamity Brook Trail, Tahawus, New York) |
Autumn begins to be inferred
By millinery of the cloud,
Or deeper color in the shawl
That wraps the everlasting hill.
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| (West Artlington, Vermont) |
The Clouds their Backs together laid
The North begun to push
The Forests galloped till they fell
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| (East Arlington, Vermont) |
Without commander, countless, still,
The regiment of wood and hill
In bright detachment stand.
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| (Holderness, New Hampshire) |
She sweeps with many brooms,
And leaves the shreds behind
Oh housewife in the evening west,
Come back and dust the pond!
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| (Gilmanton, New Hampshire) |
Like mighty footlights burned the red
At bases of the trees--
The far theatricals of day
Exhibiting to these.
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| (Moxham Mountain, Minerva, New York) |
The Maple wears a gayer scarf--
The field a scarlet gown--
Lest I should be old fashioned
I'll put a trinket on.
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| (Pilot Knob Ridge, Fort Ann, New York) |
Frequently the woods are pink--
Frequently are brown.
Frequently the hills undress
Behind my native town.
