Poetry, Observation, Light

I read an excerpt from James Wright to second graders today. Metaphor comes easier to young children than it does to teenagers and young adults. We learn to be concrete--just the facts. I asked them to describe what they saw on their bus ride--the leaves turning, falling, light across the road, animals. It was a joy to see their excitement about poetry. How do we lose that? I remember hating the line-by-line analysis that is so much a part of the study of poetry in high school. I like approaching a poem like I approach a painting or a piece of music--I just take it in, think about it, hang out with it for a while. If it touches me, I invite it back into my life again and again.

On my morning walk, the air was tangy and cool. I miss the wind and salt-sprayed air of Ireland. I do love the light here though--especially when it is filtering through trees just beginning to burst into color. Autumn is a time of gathering in--putting away sandals and tank tops and taking out sweaters and warm socks. I am making preparations to go into the darker space of winter.