Today's poem is by M. L. Smoker.
I chose it because I think it's such a great poem for the way it feels when the seasons start to change—that kind of intensified attention we pay to the world around us, the way everything is responding to the change.
I also think it deals, as a poem, with one of the problems of poetry well—how to account for the poet in a poem about the world. I don't know if I'm expressing that well. Basically, I think there's this tension in a lot of poems between the small universe of one person's perceptions and the large universe that she or he perceives.
Any questions, observations, please comment here.
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