The weather is turning. There is something magical about this time of year. I find myself praying more, loving the air more, breathing more deeply and seeing things with a crisper vision. Everything seems heightened in this season, more focused, intense.
Yes, the economic state of the nation is dreadful. Yes, the war rages. Yes to the acknowledgement of a zillion horrible things.
But yes also to life, to color, to joy. Yes to the quickening of the soul that autumn brings. Yes to the gift of autumn.
Thank you, God, for reminding me of exuberant bliss. Thank you for the feeling of home, of cozy nights by the fire. Thank you for simple pleasures in an extraordinary season.
O WORLD, I cannot hold thee close enough!
Thy winds, thy wide grey skies!
Thy mists that roll and rise!
Thy woods, this autumn day, that ache and sag
And all but cry with colour! That gaunt crag
To crush! To lift the lean of that black bluff!
World, World, I cannot get thee close enough!
Long have I known a glory in it all,
But never knew I this;
Here such a passion is
As stretcheth me apart. Lord, I do fear
Thou'st made the world too beautiful this year.
My soul is all but out of me,—let fall
No burning leaf; prithee, let no bird call.
--Edna St Vincent Millay