october.

October 7, 2009

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and that’s why i have to go back to so many places in the future, there to find myself with no witnesses but the moon & then to whistle with joy. ambling over rocks & clods of earth, with no task but to live with no family but the road. – pablo neruda

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one day you finally knew what you had to do, and began. though the voices around you kept shouting their bad advice, though the whole house bgan to tremble and you felt the old tug at your ankles, “mend my life!” – each voice cried, but you didn’t stop you knew what you had to do. though the wind pried with its stiff finger at the very foundations, though their melancholy was terrible, it was already late enough and a wild night, and the road full of fallen branches & stones. but little by little as you left their voices behind the stars began to burn through the sheets of clouds. and there was a new voice which you suddenly recognized as your own and that kept you company as you strode deeper into the world, determined to do the only thing you could do, determinded to save the only life you could save.  – mary oliver

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there is a beautiful spirit breathing now
its mellow richness on the clustered trees,
and, from a beaker full of richest dyes,
pouring new glory on the autumn woods,
and dipping in warm light the pillared clouds.
morn on the mountain, like a summer bird,
lifts up her purple wing, and in the vales
the gentle wind, a sweet and passionate wooer,
kisses the blushing leaf, and stirs up life
within the solemn woods of ash deep-crimsoned,
and silver beech, and maple yellow-leaved,
where autumn, like a faint old man, sits down
by the wayside a-weary. through the trees
the golden robin moves. -longfellow

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