Autumn

By Grace Paley 1922–2007 Grace Paley

What is sometimes called a

tongue of flame

or an arm extended burning

is only the long

red and orange branch of

a green maple

in early September reaching

into the greenest field

out of the green woods at the

edge of which the birch trees

appear a little tattered tired

of sustaining delicacy

all through the hot summer re-

minding everyone (in

our family) of a Russian

song a story

by Chekhov or my father

What is sometimes called a

tongue of flame

or an arm extended burning

is only the long

red and orange branch of

a green maple

in early September reaching

into the greenest field

out of the green woods at the

edge of which the birch trees

appear a little tattered tired

of sustaining delicacy

all through the hot summer re-

minding everyone (in

our family) of a Russian

song a story by

Chekhov or my father on

his own lawn standing

beside his own wood in

the United States of

America saying (in Russian)

this birch is a lovely

tree but among the others

somehow superficial

Grace Paley, “Autumn” from Long Walks and Intimate Talks by Grace Paley and Vera B. Williams. Copyright © 1991 by Grace Paley. Reprinted with the permission of The Feminist Press at the City University of New York, www.feministpress.org.

Source: Begin Again: The Collected Poems of Grace Paley (The Feminist Press, 1999)

Biography

With her first two books of short stories, Grace Paley established her niche in the world of letters. Her distinctive voice and verbal gifts have captured the hearts of critics who praise her vision as well as her style. In short and sometimes plotless tales, she plumbs the lives of working-class New Yorkers, mapping out what New York Review of Books contributing critic Michael Wood called "a whole small country of damaged, . . .

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