Showing posts with label October. Show all posts
Showing posts with label October. Show all posts
3

October haiku

Posted by Claudia Moser on 7:07 AM in ,

Autumn evening
She prepares a hot tea cup
With honey and lemon.

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4

Monday's special

Posted by Claudia Moser on 11:57 AM in ,


“AUTUMNAL

Pale amber sunlight falls across
The reddening October trees,
That hardly sway before a breeze
As soft as summer: summer's loss
Seems little, dear! on days like these.

Let misty autumn be our part!
The twilight of the year is sweet:
Where shadow and the darkness meet
Our love, a twilight of the heart
Eludes a little time's deceit.

Are we not better and at home
In dreamful Autumn, we who deem
No harvest joy is worth a dream?
A little while and night shall come,
A little while, then, let us dream.

Beyond the pearled horizons lie
Winter and night: awaiting these
We garner this poor hour of ease,
Until love turn from us and die
Beneath the drear November trees.” 

― Ernest DowsonThe Poems and Prose of Ernest Dowson

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12

Green Day - Happy green

Posted by Claudia Moser on 9:09 AM in , ,

Somehow this does not fit the weather outside, I experienced today the first snow this winter, in Helsinki. Rather strange, I had to look at the date three times, the 26th of October 2012 and already 6 cm snow! Nevertheless the green and blue of this picture make me smile, it warms my heart and reminds me of what the Germans call 'Golden October'!

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Motto

"A story is not like a road to follow … it's more like a house. You go inside and stay there for a while, wandering back and forth and settling where you like and discovering how the room and corridors relate to each other, how the world outside is altered by being viewed from these windows. And you, the visitor, the reader, are altered as well by being in this enclosed space, whether it is ample and easy or full of crooked turns, or sparsely or opulently furnished. You can go back again and again, and the house, the story, always contains more than you saw the last time. It also has a sturdy sense of itself of being built out of its own necessity, not just to shelter or beguile you."
by Alice Munro

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