All Seasons Sweet

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The winter will be short, the summer long,
The autumn amber-hued, sunny and hot,
Tasting of cider and of scuppernong;
All seasons sweet, but autumn best of all.
The autumn frosts will lie upon the grass
Like bloom on grapes of purple-brown and gold.
The misted early mornings will be cold;
The little puddles will be roofed with glass.
The sun, which burns from copper into brass,
Melts these at noon, and makes the boys unfold
Their knitted mufflers; full as they can hold
Fat pockets dribble chestnuts as they pass.
Down to the Puritan marrow of my bones 
There’s something in this richness that I hate. 
I love the look, austere, immaculate, 
Of landscapes drawn in pearly monotones. 
There’s something in my very blood that owns 
Bare hills, cold silver on a sky of slate, 
A thread of water, churned to milky spate 
Streaming through slanted pastures fenced with stones. 
I love those skies, thin blue or snowy gray, 
Those fields sparse-planted, rendering meagre sheaves; 
That spring, briefer than apple-blossom’s breath, 
Summer, so much too beautiful to stay, 
Swift autumn, like a bonfire of leaves, 
And sleepy winter, like the sleep of death.

~Elinor Wylie from “Wild Peaches”

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Amber stretches from sky to ground.
The clouds key-holed in the chill
and below, the leaves suffer their own keyholes
as they slowly melt away.
I’m feeling holey myself,
punched and transparent,
pondering where holiness is found
when life wholly shows its holes.
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5 thoughts on “All Seasons Sweet”

  1. Elinor Wylie, a former editor of Vanity Fair, lived most of her all-too-brief life in the early 20th century, a time not unlike today in terms of conflict and change. Through it all, she endured society’s scorn for leaving an impossibly unhappy marriage and wrote some of the country’s best poetry. She rests in the Forty Fort (PA) Cemetery, next to her grandfather, Governor Hoyt, about a mile from where I live.

    As delighted as I am to read Wylie once again,
    Emily’s words inspire me more. And I think of the black holes in our cosmos, how they can’t be seen because they absorb all light, but their presence can be perceived by the affect they have on their surroundings. Could it possibly the same with true holiness? I hope so!

    Liked by 3 people

  2. In addition to the splendor of the lavish beauty and variety of all that our Creator-God has given to us to savor and enjoy — there exists one other place where we will find holiness: it is within our souls – that secret, hidden place known only to the Creator where His Spirit resides in silent vigilance. It is a holy place because He is holy. Scripture tells us that we humans are created in the image of God. That means that we, then, are repositories of holiness, even if we acknowledge and act upon its presence only in its latent form. Once we become aware of this powerful gift of holiness we are armed with the special Graces that allow us to follow Him with joy and purpose and to reach out to others to inspire and encourage them that there is so much MORE within us that enables us to continue on our journey, knowing that He is always there and that we are not alone –ever!

    Liked by 2 people

  3. The mechanics of “liking” escape me Alice, but I like and very much appreciate your response, as I often do. I’ve been teetering on the edge of faith for years. It’s a bit like standing on a high dive for the first time, unable to go back down the ladder but one teaspoon shy of the courage to jump off. You remind me, in a gentle but firm voice, that I know how to swim.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. ah, Rob, it is the lack of courage that makes me jump every day, and then climb back up the rickety steps of the faith ladder. He has never failed to catch me every time I leap.

    Liked by 1 person

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