Mei's paws crunched on the blueish-moss colored grass that was the frozen ground this morning. It reminded me of a poem, whose words I have heard spoken from the mouth of Jay Kesler for the past five years.
It's about making apple cider, having friends over for a harvest meal, and finding rest and joy after a season of work. You can almost hear the "raspin' of the tangled leaves" on a brittle corn stalk, smell the crisp morning, and squint in the morning sun, as a sudden gust of wind bites your cheeks- when "air's so appetizin'"- this is the autumn that I love!
James Whitcomb Riley's work is best read outloud. It only makes sense that way. He's from Indiana, and I'm from all over the Midwest so all of this imagery really stimulates my senses. My earliest memories are of Little Orphant Annie being read to me in our homeschool basement room, so the fact that most of the words are colloquial hasn't ever bothered me, even though I have no idea what "the fodder's in the shock" means.
1 comment:
reading this just triggered my first real, flooding pang of missing Taylor and all it entails. ;)
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