In lieu of trying to belong to any number of societies: Chesterton, Sherlock Holmes, the Inklings, and so on: I propose and establish one of my own. Don your intelligence cap at the door; dust off your logic and imagination; did you bring your inspiration and encouragement? We are shapers, my friends; lit lamps; light-bringers. Bring quotes; poetry should be uplifting and thoughtful, or witty and clever, (or both). Humor is encouraged; laughter is invited back. Pull up a chair. Anyone for tea?

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Combines roll


A goose flies up, startled, from a field; feeling sheepish perhaps, that he hasn't begun his trek south. Other birds gather in flocks and murmurations to wend their way out of winter danger. Crooked lines of ducks rise over the pastures like pen strokes in morse code. All along the ditches and hedgerows, leaves change to vivid red, gold, and burnt orange; like painted fire. Great bushes along the line-fences turn the color of aubergines. Corn fields empty; some trees are bare.

Even the sidewalks and gutters are thoroughly filled with leaves now. Crimson berries and bright yellow trees dance against cerulean skies. A red-tailed hawk perches on a high-line pole; seeking food perhaps, or just showing off for my benefit. Heaven knows I enjoy it. Each unfolding of nature's autumnal glory is a delight to me, but one I don't stop to savor often enough. A drive out to the country is called for. Natural scenery to rest my eyes on and take in the season's turning.

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