"Indian Summer"
Along the line of smoky hills
Along the line of smoky hills
The
crimson forest stands,
And
all the day the blue-jay calls
Throughout
the autumn lands.
Now by the brook the maple leans,
With
all his glory spread;
And
all the sumachs on the hills
Have
turned their green to red.
Now, by great marshes wrapt in mist,
Or
past some river's mouth,
Throughout
the long still autumn day
Wild
birds are flying south.
My husband has been out all morning helping a friend but, when he returns, we will be working on the addition. We started putting the siding on yesterday and we need to get that done before winter arrives.
Right now, I am going to have a cup of tea and perhaps read a few pages of a book while I wait for him to return.
Blessings
One of my favourite poems too, Anna. I remember learning it in public school as part of our 'memory work' - must have worked!
ReplyDeleteI look forward to your musings - keep it up!