A Perfect Autumn Day Poem by Daniel Brick

Thursday, November 3,2016

Today there was no wind. Everything was
still and in its proper place. The air
we breathed was abundant summer air,
even though the calendar insisted it was
already November. The sun spread its light
evenly across a cloudless sky, and its warmth
descended gently to envelop us. The sky itself
was an immense pane of purest glass, which
hovered over us like an immense window
into the Cosmos...

But Galactic Things and their huge scale were
far from my thoughts. I focused on small things
of immediate wonder, things close enough
touch and smell, as commonplace as flowers turning
toward the sun, or birds asserting their territories
with songs...

Late in the afternoon I arrived at SALEM HILLS PARK,
named after a nearby church, an old building
from one hundred years ago, with its adjacent cemetery.
With images of church and cemetery, my walk assumed
the character of a pilgrimage, a focused journey
with people of similar purpose and drive - Friends!
What are friends if not companions of our mortal journey
through time to a destination common to all mortals.
Thus, are we all pilgrims, each with a special trait:
some a sense of direction, others a sense of purpose,
still others with keen memories to recall events,
and those bold, confident few who tell when we must
change direction or purpose and renew the journey.

Yeats already spoke for all of us:
SAY MY GLORY WAS I HAD SUCH FRIENDS.
They swirl around me even now: Sonya and Robert
in Minneapolis, my sister and her family,
my aunt and uncle, Rosie and Bob, Paul at Lyngblomsten,
Rosemary in Portland, Liza in St. Petersburg.
Soon after I finish my litany, shafts of darkness pierced
the woods, and I hastened my steps. As I drove home,
night completely enveloped this perfect Autumn day.