We’re in the last days of summer sliding into fall. School and fall sports started and gardeners are starting to think about final harvest and how long we can draw out the tomato crop. It’s a bittersweet time and the paper this week holds both sweetness and bite.
We have a great story about the Durable Medical Equipment business in Eagle Butte and the contribution it makes to us and the wider community. We also have a story that touches on the inter-generational grief that still lingers from Wounded Knee.
The West River Eagle introduces a new voice this week, Grace Terry. Grace is an elder and friend. She speaks a universal message with a voice full of the heritage of her homeland in the South. This board hopes you enjoy her message about being fully present with family and food.
We came across this poem recently and it speaks to the speed with which summer shoots away and autumn arrives. The phrase, “Summer still raging while a thin column of smoke stirs from the land” really got to us.
Be safe. Wear a mask. Get vaccinated.
Song at the Beginning of Autumn
By Elizabeth Jennings
Now watch this Autumn that arrives
In smells. All looks like Summer still;
Colours are quite unchanged, the air
On green and white serenely thrives.
Heavy the trees with growth and full
The fields. Flowers flourish everywhere.
Proust who collected time within
A child’s cake would understand
The ambiguity of this –
Summer still raging while a thin
Column of smoke stirs from the land.
But every season is a kind
Of rich nostalgia. We give names –
Autumn and Summer, Winter, Spring –
As though to unfasten from the mind
Our moods and give them outward forms.
We want the certain, solid thing.
But I am carried back against
My will into a childhood where
Autumn is bonfires, marbles, smoke;
I lean against my window fenced
From evocations in the air.
When I said Autumn, Autumn broke.