by Lucy Maud Montgomery

It was November —
the month of crimson sunsets,
parting birds,
deep, sad hymns of the sea,
passionate wind-songs in the pines.
Anne roamed through the pineland alleys
in the park and, as she said,
let that great sweeping wind
blow the fogs
out of her soul.
 

 


As featured on
The Daily Gardener podcast:

Words inspired by the garden are the sweetest, most beautiful words of all.
Lucy Maud Montgomery
Lucy Maud Montgomery

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