I would say my feeling at summer's turn to fall is more melancholy than grief. Coming from New England, fall brought the most joyous expression of color in the turning of the leaves. To me, then, it was exhilarating through all the senses: smell, touch, sight, the rustle, spiritual lifting. I don't have that total immersion here in Utah, but a gradual sense of being isolated in a tiny condo in a large world. Therefore, the melancholy.
I think for me, it was grief because we just learned that we could feed orioles here five weeks ago, a friend told me--they found the feeder within 8 hours!!--and we've been blessed with these gorgeous bright yellow birds for a month. Next year, the feeder goes out in April, so we can enjoy them the whole season of April through August. During this time of tough pain, those birds brought me such joy--and then boom! gone. At least there are still some stands of sunflowers to brighten my day.
I would say my feeling at summer's turn to fall is more melancholy than grief. Coming from New England, fall brought the most joyous expression of color in the turning of the leaves. To me, then, it was exhilarating through all the senses: smell, touch, sight, the rustle, spiritual lifting. I don't have that total immersion here in Utah, but a gradual sense of being isolated in a tiny condo in a large world. Therefore, the melancholy.
Oh Mare, I am sorry for the melancholy.
I think for me, it was grief because we just learned that we could feed orioles here five weeks ago, a friend told me--they found the feeder within 8 hours!!--and we've been blessed with these gorgeous bright yellow birds for a month. Next year, the feeder goes out in April, so we can enjoy them the whole season of April through August. During this time of tough pain, those birds brought me such joy--and then boom! gone. At least there are still some stands of sunflowers to brighten my day.
Sending love,
Amrita
Sunflowers are our recompense for losing many birds and flowers in the fall.
I never thought of them that way before! I see them differently now.
so glad new poems emerge even as birds fly to their winter home...it's like breathing.