October's Bright Blue Weather

O sun and skies and clouds of June

And flowers of June together,

Ye cannot rival for one hour

October's bright blue weather;

When loud the bumblebee makes haste,

Belated, thriftless vagrant,

And goldenrod is dying fast,

And lanes with grapes are fragrant;

When gentians roll their fringes tight,

To save them for the morning,

And chestnuts fall from satin burs

Without a sound of warning;

When on the ground red apples lie

In piles like jewels shining,

And redder still on old stone walls

Are leaves of woodbine twining;

When all the lovely wayside things

Their white-winged seeds are sowing,

And in the fields, still green and fair,

Late aftermaths are growing;

When springs run low, and on the brooks

In idle, golden freighting,

Bright leaves sink noiseless in the hush

Of woods, for winter waiting;

When comrades seek sweet country haunt

By twos and twos together,

And count like misers hour by hour

October's bright blue weather.

O sun and skies and flowers of June,

Count all your boasts together,

Love loveth best of all the year

October's bright blue weather.

by Helen Hunt Jackson

Haven't seen much of those bright blue skies lately.  It's been gray, dreary, and warm here in the city.  Not quite my idea of a lovely autumn.

It is one of those days for me.  The words are there; they just won't come. We all have these days on occasion, don't we?  We find our minds flooded with bits and pieces of what I call 'this and that' kind of information.  We become scattered as we try to focus on too many things at once.  This used to happen to me on occasion when I wrote plays, and I would push myself to write, to write anything, but the words that came out just didn't seem to fit in what I was trying to get across.

So now, this is when I tell myself to back off for the day.  Give the mind a chance to get its thoughts together.