When I saw Donna’s photos from Lovell, Maine I knew I wanted to share them and so I asked her for some words to accompany them. She shared a poem written by her partner’s daughter, Kristin Roberts, and suggested Kristin’s words might work instead. A perfect pairing. The poem, written by Kristin in the 7th grade, attests to her sensitivity and great observational skills about nature, about the people who engage with the Lovell landscape, and about the passage of time. Please enjoy this lovely pairing of words and images that capture the season.
Autumn
Crimson, buttercup, marigold leaves swirl rustling around in rhythm of Autumn. The icy winds swipe.
Bee charmers with nets on their crowns, collect the pure golden honey from dripping cones. Farmers collect apples just before the tart crispy fruit turns to ripe.
The bitter winds nip at my face, redden my cheeks, numb my fingers, while icy blue Jack frost freezes Queen Anne’s lace.
Warm golden summer’s gone.
Oaks and birches are stripped bare. Rifle shots ring out in echo as sharp eyed hunters bring down swift graceful deer.
Sweet singing birds long ago flew south, replaced with huge black crows with their loud mocking mouths.
Soft fluffy snow will soon replace corpsed grass. And the awful sight soon will pass.
My lawn is littered with bright leaves, each unique in its own way. Dark misty evening is extended. Gray dawns are gloomy, bright mornings have ended.
Brilliant gay summers will be here at last, when the silver season after golden Autumn soon comes to pass.
by Kristin Roberts (1981-2011)
