apoetreflects:

Little Meditation Above the Meadow

The beautiful brown of the autumn grasses—
                                                       now upright after a strong wind—
Is like the green of the evergreens,
Awkwardly upward, but cinching the earth to the sky.

Our poor lives would like that color—
                                                         actually, either one of them—
To turn us into an otherwise,
Something that mindlessly displays,
                                                      something that connects.

—Charles Wright, from Sestets (Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 2009)