THE FEAST

Come! Go with me this Autumn

To where the hills light up the sky

With their burgundies dipped into purple mists

As drops of sun light on flightless leaves

Blend into fields of golden pumpkins strewn about.

With apples, as crisp as wafers of ice,

And air so clear and velvety light,

You will think it really isn’t there.

We’ll have corn on the cob at dusk

With apple cider, biscuits, ham and eggs,

And those buttermilk pancakes

Smothered with country butter

And fresh maple syrup,

Because, you see, Autumn is a time to enjoy

All the best there is, or ever was.

And since it is also Indian Summer,

We will go for a swim in that old millpond.