Last Waltz

Summer keeps holding on here in Connecticut. The temperature for the past 2 days has hovered around 70 degrees and tomorrow's forecast calls for an afternoon thunderstorm. I'm not complaining.

I am puzzled though by Autumn - very schitzophrenic season. It is the only season with multiple names (Autumn & Fall) and the only season that tries to steal the thunder and surname of another season (Indian Summer). Very low self-esteem if you ask me.








The Wild Swans of Coole
by William Butler Yeats

The trees are in their autumn beauty,
The woodland paths are dry,
Under the October twighlight the water
Mirrors a still sky;
Upon the brimming water among the stones
Are nine-and-fifty swans.

The nineteenth autumn has come upon me
Since I first made my count;
I saw, before I had well finished,
All suddenly mount
And scatter wheeling in great broken rings
Upon their clamourous wings.

I have looked upon those brilliant creatures,
And now my heart is sore.
All's changed since I, hearing at twilight,
The first time on this shore,
The bell-beat of their wings above my head,
Trod with a lighter tread.

Unwearied still, lover by lover,
They paddle in the cold
Companionable streams or climb the air;
Their hearts have not grown old;
Passion or conquest, wander where they will,
Attend upon them still.

But now they drift on the still water,
Mysterious, beautiful;
Among what rushes will they build,
By what lake's edge or pool
Delight men's eyes when I awake some day
To find they have flown away?