Welcoming Autumn
Description
The Green Man in the cloisters
Date 6 October 2010
Source Geograph Britain and Ireland
AuthorSteve Daniels
(CC BY-SA 2.0)
Today is both the first day of Autumn and Hobbit Day, celebrating the birthdays of Bilbo and Frodo Baggins. Autumn has always been one of my favorite seasons. The weather gets cool enough for me to feel comfortable all day; I can sleep with windows open and the fan off; apples and apple cider are in season; nature prepares for death and shows forth a symphony of color.
As much as I am generally sanguine in my outlook on life, there’s always been something a little melancholic and saturnine in my make up. The darkness, the cold, the death all feel close to me, familiar. Sure, in many ways, I appreciate them because they provide opportunities for hygge, for candles and fires in the fireplace, hot drinks all day long, sweaters, and long books. But I also like the natural reminder that I will die, that many others have gone on that path before me. Autumn itself is almost like Good Friday for a whole season, Christ is dying. Winter then is Holy Saturday, Christ is dead. Spring is the Resurrection, Christ re-born. And Summer is both the life of the resurrected Christ and our life now before his return. Every season is necessary and teaches us something, if we pay attention.
In honor of Autumn, I want to share two poems with you. The first is from my book The Green Man. The second is from a new collection I’m working on, tentatively titled after this poem, The Green Man Beckons. I hope you enjoy.
"The Green Man in Autumn”
English: Swamp cypress (Taxodium distichum) near Sukko, Krasnodar Krai, Russia
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Date Taken on 5 November 2016, 12:08:51
Source Own work
Author HoroshilovAleksandr
(CC BY-SA 4.0)
The air is crisp, the berries have turned brown,
The final harvest has been taken in,
The once new leaves have dropped from the Green Man's crown,
And the Summer's Sun has come to rest and dims.
A cooling breeze sends shivers through his limbs
And fells the apples from their gnarled trees.
In his basket he piles them to the brim
And he makes a draught that fills us up with ease.
He sits in his cave and wanders off in sleep
Taking with him the trees and plants he governs.
The Conifers he sets to watch, to keep
A lonely eye on his domain; for love learns
That what is dead will someday soon arise
And bring with it new life, new joy, new sunrise.
The Green Man Beckons
Come in the hidden woods and find me there.
Follow all the roots like river paths,
And breathe the greening power of the air.
Come follow the booming echo of my laugh.
Beware the little fires on the way,
The wisps will always play their little games,
But listen to the hidden people play,
And find the gnomic feasts enwreathed in flames.
Come and sing along with river reeds,
Their songs will lead you to forgotten groves.
You’ll find the birds collecting all their seeds.
Step in the ring where only mushrooms grow.
The dappled light will show you where to go,
And will reveal the secrets of the wood.
And when you feel the wind begin to blow,
You will find me and I will bring you good.
Green man in Norwich Cathedral, East Anglia, England.
Date
31 May 2013
SourceOwn work
AuthorDietG
(CC BY-SA 3.0)
