Thursday, October 15, 2015


by Helen Hunt Jackson

Bending above the spicy woods which blaze,
Arch skies so blue they flash, and hold the sun
Immeasurably far; the waters run
Too slow, so freighted are the river-ways
With gold of elms and birches from the maze
Of forests. Chestnuts, clicking one by one,
Escape from satin burs; her fringes done,
The gentian spreads them out in sunny days,
And, like late revelers at dawn, the chance
Of one sweet, mad, last hour, all things assail,
And conquering, flush and spin; while, to enhance
The spell, by sunset door, wrapped in a veil
Of red and purple mists, the summer, pale,
Steals back alone for one more song and dance.


Gary L. Everest said...

Hi Rhonda,
What gives? No comments on this wonderful autumn poem? The only reason I didn't write yesterday was I was leaving all those zeros and ones for those significantly more sensitive than
As I write this comment, or should I say lament?
I'm shaken by those stony souls who should have written
but didn't.
Are their keyboards stuck in cement? Their hearts so cold they couldn't?
Oh the humanity.

RH Carpenter said...

Hi, Gary! Thanks for posting a comment :) Maybe some people don't care for poetry or don't "get" poetry or...just don't have the time to comment. In the world of Facebook, it's so much easier to click that Like button and move on to the next thing. Sometimes, we do need to slow way down...breathe...and enjoy words which paint pictures - like these do!