Season Of Mists

Autumn morning mists came calling.

The grass is wet with a heavy dew, taking most of the afternoon before it is dry to the touch.

Down on main street, shopkeepers display their pumpkins and Autumn fayre.

Orange and yellows are now the colors of the season.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

"Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,

Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;

Conspiring with him how to load and bless

With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;

To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,

And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;

To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells

With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,

And still more, later flowers for the bees,

Until they think warm days will never cease,

For Summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells."

~ John Keats