Sunrise Walk – October 10

 "Whatever it was I lost, whatever I wept for
Was a wild, gentle thing, the small dark eyes
Loving me in secret.
It is here. At a touch of my hand,
The air fills with delicate creatures
From the other world."
– James Wright

 "Sylvia's hair is like the night,


Touched with glancing starry beams;


Such a face as drifts thro' dreams,


This is Sylvia to the sight.


And the touch of Sylvia's hand


Is as light as milkweed down,


When the meads are golden brown,


And the autumn fills the land..."
– Clinton Scollard

 "ragged wool hanging


the wet milkweed seeds


tethered, connected


moored in their pods


tied still to the ground


hovering limp, heavy


above the earth


waiting for drying


to give them flight, new birth"
– Raymond A. Foss