Besides the Autumn poets sing
A few prosaic days
A little this side of the snow
And that side of the Haze.
A few incisive Mornings,
A few Ascetic Eves,
Gone-Mr. Bryant's "Golden Rod",
And Mr. Thomson's "sheaves."
Still, is the bustle in the Brook,
Sealed are the spicy valves,
Mesmeric fingers softly touch
The Eyes of many Elves.
Perhaps a squirrel may remain,
My sentiments to share,
Grant me, Oh Lord, a sunny mind,
Thy windy will to bear!
~Emily Dickinson

Photographed in Callicoon, New York, USA