It strikes us suddenly and blinds us with
a light seen no other time of the year.
Some late afternoon in fall we are driving
along admiring the changing colors,
round a curve and there it is. A white hot
blur is all we see. We hope there’s no
oncoming vehicle and pray that we can
hold the road until some trees or another
curve will rescue us. We may recall
Emily’s reference to that winter slant
of light caused, I am given to understand,
by the angle of the sun as it passes
on its way to spend winter in the south.
Everyone seems to have a story. I must admit
I panicked before a handy little copse of maples
intervened and I saw no traffic either way.
I did see a sky being transformed into
a slide show that held me spellbound.
White clouds turned to light blue with
pink bellies, while the background deepened
to indigo as streaks of pink, purple
and gold began to fill the sky. I watched
the shifting colors all the way home as
the primal source of light melted into the trees,
leaving banners of his color guard behind.
They faded soon. By the time I entered
my drive the sky had covered its head with
a gray flannel blanket and retired for the night.

—Poem by Elaine Parker Akin