A Poem for September

Or a bit of one. Louis MacNiece's Autumn Journal is pretty long, very beautiful and well worth a read as the nights draw in (with the possible addition of red wine and maybe even cinnamon toast if, like me, you find yourself in the mood to go large on the whole Autumn Experience.)

September has come, it is hers 

Whose vitality leaps in the autumn, 

Whose nature prefers 

Trees without leaves and a fire in the fire-place.

So I give her this month and the next

Though the whole of my year should be hers who has rendered 

already

So many of its days intolerable or perplexed

But so many more so happy; 

Who has left a scent on my life and left my walls 

Dancing over and over with her shadow, 

Whose hair is twined in all my waterfalls 

And all of London littered with remembered kisses.

(I'd like to pretend I'm familiar with this poem from dusty university tutorials or because I have dozens of slim, well-thumbed volumes of poetry on my bedside table, but I actually came across this excerpt as a teenager in one of my all time favourite comfort reads, The Shell Seekers. As someone who definitely prefers trees without leaves and a fire in the fireplace it struck enough of a chord to make me seek it out, and to add it to the list of Things I've Learned by Reading Romance.)

Happy Autumn everyone! 

(Honestly, blog posts. Like buses. Not a single one for 5 months and then 2 in the space of a week.) (Nearly.)