It was, as I have said, a fine autumnal day; the sky was clear and serene, and nature wore that rich and golden livery which we always associate with the idea of abundance. The forests had put on their sober brown and yellow, while some trees of the tenderer kind had been nipped by the frosts into brilliant dyes of orange, purple, and scarlet.... As Ichabod jogged slowly on his way, his eye... ranged with delight over the treasures of jolly autumn. ~Washington Irving, "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow"

Thursday, November 19, 2009

Why I love this poet.

Black Swallowtail

The caterpillar,
interesting but now exactly lovely,
humped along among the parsley leaves
eating, always eating. Then
one night it was gone and in its place
a small green confinement hung by two silk threads
on a parsley stem. I think it took nothing with it
except faith, and patience. And then one morning

it expressed itself into the most beautiful being.

( for Nina )

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Chef E said...

Oh I love that book! Ha I saw the title and will not tell you my first thought, LOL...I need to get over myself :)

Madeline's Album said...

A lovely poem. Have a great evening.

Julie Whitmore Pottery said...

Connie, for the reason that this is a poem about an insect, I thought it was going to be about John Clare. Have you read him?
I think its time I ordered a book of Poems by Mary Oliver.


nina said...

it's a little early in the morning to have eyes filled with tears - but i'll take that, anyway, the tears - thank you sweet friend! xxx