Rage Against the Dying of the Light

I do not understand all of Dylan Thomas's poem, "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night", but somehow the words of that poem came to mind as I walked the autumn woods and saw the season dying.  Everything is folding up, shrinking, and blowing away.

When I saw these weeds standing bright and tall in the woods, I thought how they blazed with glory in the afternoon light, arms stretched up in a show of defiance.  They are not going gentle into the night of winter, but are standing fast against the wind and frost.

It cheered me to see it, and reminded me that I, too, can rage against the dying light as we go into the darkest season of the year, where the minutes of daylight shrink at an alarming rate.  I can get out and take walks and keep my thoughts elevated, and focus on the joys of life even as the world is slowly wrapped in the darkness of winter.  It will be a long traverse, but I know that in February and March, life will spring anew and everything will bud and be beautiful again!