It's been eighty degrees here nearly every day this week. I am dreaming of fall and hoping it comes soon. To encourage fall to show it's colors, I've been reading Frost, Dickinson and Sandburg. Today I'm sharing a piece by Sandburg.
Autumn MovementThe round up this week is being hosted by Becky at Becky's Book Reviews. Be sure to stop by and check out all the great poetry being shared this week. Happy poetry Friday, all!
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.