Thursday, September 30, 2010

Indian Summer Days by Julia Collins Ardayne

Pale aspens mid the firs' dark tents; 
Wood smoke's drifting haze; 
Sumac red along the fence . . . 
These make autumn days.

Haystacks in the meadow where 
A brook's turned amber in the sun;
A touch of frost as mellow days 
Grow shorter, one by one. 

Cobwebs strong, predicting cold, 
Shine like copper wire; 
And sunlight spilling treetop gold 
That sets the woods on fire

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