September, 1918

This afternoon was the colour of water falling through sunlight;

The trees glittered with the tumbling of leaves;

The sidewalks shone like alleys of dropped maple leaves,

And the houses ran along them laughing out of square, open windows.

Under a tree in the park,

Two little boys, lying flat on their faces,

Were carefully gathering red berries

To put in a pasteboard box.

Some day there will be no war,

Then I shall take out this afternoon

And turn it in my fingers,

And remark the sweet taste of it upon my palate,

And note the crisp variety of its flights of leaves.

To-day I can only gather it

And put it into my lunch-box,

For I have time for nothing

But the endeavour to balance myself

Upon a broken world.

By Amy Lowell

This poem was written in September 1918, during World War I, and yet it feels just as fitting today. It's a daily and painful "endeavor to balance myself upon a broken world," and I am so very thankful that there is a Healer who will one day make everything right. 

That is a serious comfort. If I didn't have it, I don't know if I would be breathing right now. 

It is wonderful to be breathing.

What I'm Wearing:

• Top by Express - thrifted
• Skirt by CHRISTOPHER & BANKS - shortened 6+ inches by me
• Belt - Kohl's
• Shoes - FERGALICIOUS by FERGIE - Famous Footwear

Here's hoping you had a lovely week despite the brokenness around you.
There's a bright and shining weekend ahead. :)

-Amanda

Photos by Lydia Flynn / Edited using PicMonkey