Poem of the Month in Honor of Autumn

Another wonderful poem courtesy of American Life in Poetry. This one by Washington, D.C. poet, Judith Harris, is so good you can almost hear the crunching of leaves.

For your own autumn experience, the Chicago Botanic Garden, pictured here from a few years ago, puts on a lovely show of colors.

Gathering Leaves in Grade School

They were smooth ovals,
and some the shade of potatoes--
some had been moth-eaten
or spotted, the maples
were starched, and crackled
like campfire.

We put them under tracing paper
and rubbed our crayons
over them, X-raying
the spread of their bones
and black, veined catacombs.

We colored them green and brown
and orange, and
cut them out along the edges,
labeling them deciduous
or evergreen.

All day, in the stuffy air of the classroom, with its cockeyed globe, and nautical maps of ocean floors, I watched those leaves

lost in their own worlds
flap on the pins of the bulletin boards:
without branches or roots,
or even a sky to hold on to.