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Date:11/23/2014 10:48:10 PM
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Autumn Poetry Pt I
I am in trouble with my sister Donna. Donna is our family's proudest boast. She is the Mother Superior of the Green Bay house of the order of Sisters of Our Lady of Charity. Over 300 years earlier, another Truckey (Trottier) ancestor was the Mother Superior of a religious community near Quebec, Canada. Our ancestors were farmers and nuns. (Although, strictly speaking, we're not the direct descendents of the nuns.) Anyways, it's good to know that we are true to our heritage. Anyways, each Autumn my sister recites "September" from the "American Book of Best Loved Poetry" which sits in my Ma's bookshelves. Unfortunately, I had borrowed this book in order to write this very blog.

“The golden-rod is yellow; The corn is turning brown; . . . “ It seems that Autumn evokes poetry. The waning of the year prompts our hearts to ponder life, and death, and all things in between. In days past, when learning by rote was the rule; people whom you would never suspect of having a “cultural” side would proudly recite the poem that they had had to memorize in grade school and junior high. Pa used to tell us about how our Uncle Earl, a brawler and wrestler with a 6th­ grade education, would recite "The Village Blacksmith" by Longfellow. I read where Chuck Connors, the actor and athlete, after basketball games in the NBA in the late 1940's, would stand on a chair in bars and recite "Casey at the Bat."

It seems that everyone has a favorite poem. My Pa would recite "The Wind" by Christina Georgina Rossetti:

"Who has seen the wind?
Neither I nor you.
But when the leaves hang trembling,
The wind is passing through.

Who has seen the wind?
Neither you nor I.
But when the trees bow down their heads,
The wind is passing by."

This is my favorite poem too. I've also memorized four or five by Robert Louis Stevenson. My favorite of his is "Autumn Fires:"

In the other gardens
And all up the vale,
From the autumn bonfires
See the smoke trail!

Pleasant summer over
And all the summer flowers,
The red fire blazes,
The gray smoke towers.

Sing a song of seasons!
Something bright in all!
Flowers in the summer,
Fires in the fall!

So what is your favorite poem of Autumn? (To be continued.) -- Gary
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