Here's some Frost for an autumn Friday. Do you think this is Robert Frost’s autumnal version of his well-known classic Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening? (I've got rungs to climb before I pick, rungs to climb before I pick.)
After Apple Picking
By Robert Frost
My long two-pointed ladder's sticking through a tree
Toward heaven still,
And there's a barrel that I didn't fill
Beside it, and there may be two or three
Apples I didn't pick upon some bough.
But I am done with apple-picking now.
Essence of winter sleep is on the night,
The scent of apples: I am drowsing off.
I cannot rub the strangeness from my sight
I got from looking through a pane of glass
I skimmed this morning from the drinking trough
And held against the world of hoary grass.
It melted, and I let it fall and break.
But I was well
Upon my way to sleep before it fell,
And I could tell
What form my dreaming was about to take.
You can read the rest of the poem here.
At Wild Rose Reader, I have a short acrostic for autumn. It’s all I could manage. I’ve been too busy watching news programs and reading political blogs lately.
Tricia has the Poetry Friday Roundup at The Miss Rumphius Effect.