the golden hour

 

21677911849_9dd0ba0427_oOctober gold

the golden hour of the clock of the year. Everything that can run
to fruit has already done so: round apples, oval plums, bottom-heavy
pears, black walnuts and hickory nuts annealed in their shells,
the woodchuck with his overcoat of fat. Flowers that were once bright
as a box of crayons are now seed heads and thistle down. All the feathery
grasses shine in the slanted light. It’s time to bring in the lawn chairs
and wind chimes, time to draw the drapes against the wind, time to hunker
down. Summer’s fruits are preserved in syrup, but nothing can stopper time.
No way to seal it in wax or amber; it slides though our hands like a rope
of silk. At night, the moon’s restless searchlight sweeps across the sky.

~ Barbara Crooker
Small Rain
writer’s almanac

9 Comments on “the golden hour

  1. A simple shot but so effective. The dappled autumn colours in the background bring us into the seasonal mood! A lovely text to accompany your image!

  2. You used the go,den hour quite nicely here Susan and what a great poem. Preparing for winter and quiet time. Lovely my friend.

  3. So true, time does slip through our grasp. I love fall, but it is a rather melancholy, poignant season, as you so beautifully illustrate.

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