![\"\"](\"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/11\/PA202210-1024x768.jpg\")
<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\nMaggie Dietz is an American poet who has served as assistant poetry editor for Slate<\/em> and as director of the Favorite Poem Project. She has taught at Boston University and the University of Massachusetts-Lowell. According to the Poetry Foundation “When reading Dietz’s poems, one can often sense an aperture widening or constricting as she deftly engages the movement of light and shadow across natural and human cycles.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n Maggie Dietz is an American poet who has served as assistant poetry editor for Slate and as director of the Favorite Poem Project. She has taught at Boston University and the University of Massachusetts-Lowell. According to the Poetry Foundation “When reading Dietz’s poems, one can often sense an aperture widening or constricting as she deftly engages the movement of light and shadow across natural and human cycles.” Show’s over, folks. And didn’t October do A bang-up job? Crisp breezes, full-throated cries Of migrating geese, low-floating coral moon. Nothing left but fool’s gold in the trees. Did I love it enought, the full-throttle foliage, While it lasted? Was I dazzled? The bees Have up and quit their last-ditch flights of forage And gone to shiver in their winter clusters. Field mice hit the barns, big squirrels gorge On busted chestnuts. A sky like hardened plaster Hovers. The pasty river, its next of kin, Coughs up reed grass fat as feather dusters. Even the swarms of kids have given in To winter’s big excuse, boxed-in allure: TVs ricochet light behind pulled curtains. The days throw up a closed sign around four. The hapless customer who’d wanted something Arrives to find lights out, a bolted door. November Maggie Dietz<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":4113,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_uf_show_specific_survey":0,"_uf_disable_surveys":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[2],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-4112","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-poem-for-a-thursday"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4112","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=4112"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4112\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4114,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4112\/revisions\/4114"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/4113"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=4112"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=4112"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=4112"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}Show's over, folks. And didn't October do\nA bang-up job? Crisp breezes, full-throated\n cries\nOf migrating geese, low-floating coral moon.\n\nNothing left but fool's gold in the trees.\nDid I love it enought, the full-throttle foliage,\nWhile it lasted? Was I dazzled? The bees\n\nHave up and quit their last-ditch flights of \n forage\nAnd gone to shiver in their winter clusters.\nField mice hit the barns, big squirrels gorge\n\nOn busted chestnuts. A sky like hardened \n plaster\nHovers. The pasty river, its next of kin,\nCoughs up reed grass fat as feather dusters.\n\nEven the swarms of kids have given in \nTo winter's big excuse, boxed-in allure:\nTVs ricochet light behind pulled curtains. \n\nThe days throw up a closed sign around four.\nThe hapless customer who'd wanted something \nArrives to find lights out, a bolted door. \n\nNovember\nMaggie Dietz<\/pre>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"