Nothing Gold Can Stay
Robert Frost, 1874 – 1963
Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
Gold has shown up here in the ATL.
The Forsythia is blooming everywhere, that bushy flower so prolific in side yards and roadways. Our neighbor has a huge hedge of it and, like a car alarm, it alerts everyone that spring is at hand.
The gold finches are at the feeders, stuffing themselves, making ready for nesting and rearing young.
And, the young bucks are at the gold dome capitol this week, paging in the General Assembly. Wearing ties and pressed oxfords, they’ve already seized ownership of this town.
Nothing gold can stay, says Frost.
I tend to agree. These flowers will last another two weeks, the finches will migrate to other feeders and these boys will leave my house and find a new metropolitan area to own.
Gold is the hardest hue to hold.
My job here is to observe and watch closely for the signs. I don’t want to be caught missing one second of it.