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
American Poet
1830 – 1886
Photo Credit: Mine - Taken from the kitchen window looking out onto the deck where squirrels not only enjoy the birdseed but also the pansy blossoms.
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