My father just sent me a book of poetry by R.S. Thomas, a Welsh priest who I hadn't heard of before. So I thought it was appropriate to post something by him this Friday. I haven't read many of the poems in the collection yet, so this isn't necessarily my favourite, but it's certainly appropriate to the time of year.
A Day in Autumn
R.S. Thomas
It will not always be like this,
The air windless, a few last
Leaves adding their decoration
To the trees’ shoulders, braiding the cuffs
Of the boughs with gold; a bird preening
In the lawn’s mirror. Having looked up
From the day’s chores, pause a minute,
Let the mind take its photograph
Of the bright scene, something to wear
Against the heart in the long cold.
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