monday verse: autumn journal

It is December now, the trees are naked As the three crosses on the hill; Through the white fog the face of the orange sun is cryptic Like a lawyer making the year’s will. The year has little to show, will leave a heavy overdraft to its heir. from Autumn Journal (XVIII) by Louis MacNeice

monday verse: autumn journal

These days are misty, insulated, mute Like a faded tapestry and the soft pedal Is down and the yellow leaves are falling down. from Autumn Journal (XII) by Louis MacNeice The days, especially the mornings, are indeed misty at the moment, so this short passage seemed very appropriate. 

the trees’ girders

After a beautiful autumn, most of the trees have now dropped their leaves, their branches cutting across a chilly December sky. The sight of bare branches always makes me think of these lines from Louis MacNeice’s long poem Autumn Journal, written during the closing months of 1938, which perfectly sum up this time of year. “…the … More the trees’ girders