Several years ago Matthew sent this poem along to me, knowing how much I would like it. (He was so right!) Written by Richard Eberhart, a native Minnesotan who is now late, it describes perfectly a beautiful autumn day. I have been unsuccessful in finding a book of his poetry, but haven't given up. For now, the enjoyment of this poem is enough pleasure for this brilliant October day...
The Illusion of Eternity
Things of this world
In pure afternoons of gold,
And splendor of October,
Radiant air, still trees,
Give the illusion of eternity.
As if there were no suffering,
No ancient heart-ache of the being,
No tortures of the soul,
No struggle with mortality,
But changelessness, eternity.
A leaf falls here and there.
There are small birds a-chirp,
A chipmunk on a pine tree,
No cloud in the sky,
October afternoon, gold rarity.
Through the transparent air
Time is a kind of singing
In the inner being,
Acceptable singing,
Giving the illusion of eternity.
~Richard Eberhart, 1904 - 2005
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