To Autumn

Mother Nature must have heard our pleas for cooler temperatures and obliged.
The calendar had no sooner changed from summer to autumn and we were blessed with cool mist-filled mornings, and even cooler, crisp-laden nights, the likes of which had not been seen since early spring.
The trees are beginning their changing of color, yellows, oranges and reds.
Pumpkins are now decorating porches and gardens.
The songbirds busily returning to their winter homes.
Autumn has arrived.

 

  

"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

Autumn Mist

 

 

 

 I saw old Autumn in the misty morn

Stand shadowless like silence, listening

To silence, for no lonely bird would sing

Into his hollow ear from woods forlorn,

Nor lowly hedge nor solitary thorn;—

Shaking his languid locks all dewy bright

With tangled gossamer that fell by night,

Pearling his coronet of golden corn.

 

~Thomas Hood : Autumn (1798-1845)