Fall is here. It was cold enough today that I had to light the wood stove. Holy Cow, that thing heats the house fast. It was rainy and cold and dark this morning and if it weren't for work, I'd have stayed home all day in my pajamas.
I've nearly finished Katie's arm-socks (fingerless gloves), all done but the cast off. And let me just say "Its about freakin' time". The next time you get a hankerin' for making custom-knit arm-socks from custom spun silk yarn, think hard. I started these things in June. It is now mid-October. I'd do the happy dance with Wanda, but...
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Perseus Rising
or
First Frost
Oh, how the mild September wind plays gently with the leafy limb.
That rocking with such sweet caress makes cradles for the sky.
Weaving mattresses of green and blue so I beneath may float within,
To wait and watch for summers end, with fair and soft good-bye;
So fades evening in mellow light, then to dusk and black of night.
When gentle breezes from the day slowly melt and drift away.
As canopies that held the clouds now feel the touch of darker light,
Of glowing hosts of naked stars that chase the warmth of day.
Thus, old Perseus of ancient yarn rises with an outstretched arm.
Leaping skyward with the dread Medusa's severed starry head.
Displaying to all her icy charm so none escapes her deadly harm
And all that's fair and green of summer is suddenly struck dead!
Come dawn a sun that's not to blame awakens as if alls the same.
It has no knowledge of the power that has passed in darker hours.
Save now, the crocus and sunflower hang their heads in shame,
And the bumblebee their lover is now frozen to their flowers.
As morning sighed in grief, I saw in the trees a floating leaf.
That was mistaken for a butterfly still fluttering with life.
This mirage though very brief brought a hope for life's relief,
But with another glance in better light, the futility of all strife
G.B. Dent
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