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THE MIST AND ALL

I like the fall,
The mist and all.
I like the night owl's
Lonely call--
And wailing sound
Of wind around.


I like the gray
November day,
And bare dead boughs
That coldly sway
Against my pane.
I like the rain.

I like to sit
And laugh at it--
And tend
My cozy fire a bit.
I like the fall--
The mist and all.

Dixie Wilson (from Childcraft, Vol. I--Poems of Early Childhood)

This evening I was muttering to myself regarding the cold weather and the early darkness (yes, the euphoria of an extra hour of sleep a week or so ago was short-lived...I've been tricked! Swindled! I sold my birthright for a pot of porridge! Give me back that every-evening hour of daylight!)

And just like that, into my head popped "The Mist and All"...words I've known since early childhood. If it's November, it's inevitable...sooner or later (and I always hope for later!) I'm going to recall this poem. And when I do, I know the time has come to embrace the "bare dead boughs that coldly sway". Time to stop dreaming of another Indian summer!

Oh... just one or two more days of shirt-sleeve warmth?
No!

One more day where I think I am dreaming... It must really be September.
No. No. Just stop it!


It's time to practice laughing at the gray November day.
It's time to embrace coziness!



(Pause)
Okay, I think I'm going to have to go and build a fire now.

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