Yet a few sunny days, in which the bee Shall murmur by the hedge that skirts the way, The cricket chirp upon the russet lea, And man delight to linger in thy ray.

From the forest’s eaves The leaves descend. Bright flakes of red Ride winter’s breath And pile kickin’ high.

I feel the earth, rolling beneath as we face out into the endlessness we usually ignore. Past the evanescent meteors, infinity pulls hard.

With night coming early, And dawn coming late, And ice in the bucket And frost by the gate. The fires burn And the kettles sing, And earth sinks to rest Until next spring.

I spot the hills With yellow balls in autumn. I light the prairie cornfields Orange and tawny gold clusters And I am called pumpkins.

Courage to me means standing up against injustice, Or at least finding the strength to do something Your character or the outside world would rather you didn’t do.

The mist of dawn has taken flight To the dim horizon’s bound, And with wide sails set and eager hearts We’re off to the fishing ground.

This is the time, time on earth. Smell the sun, reap the wind, investigate love Pet a dog, search the wonderment in his eyes. You may see me looking right back at you.

There is no season when such pleasant and sunny spots may be lighted on, and produce so pleasant an effect on the feelings, as now in October.

The morning is Sunlight — rainlight . . . O morning of blowing rainbows! It glistens and sings Like a sea-shell Out of cool, curling waters.

But there’s a full moon risin’ Let’s go dancin’ in the light We know where the music’s playin’ Let’s go out and feel the night.

By all these lovely tokens September days are here, With summer’s best of weather And autumn’s best of cheer.

Season, project, and vacation done. One more year in everybody’s life. Add a notch to the old hunting knife Time keeps testing with a horny thumb.

Too beautiful to go back to sleep The morning sprite before the sun Black silhouetted trees that edge the world Respeak stillness as night’s undone.

Ask how the sunset looked between the wind going Down and the moon coming up and I would struggle To tell the how of it.

Shadows caught in a blink. Like a quick kiss; One wishes for more But it suddenly turns to leave, Dragging summer away.

Listen! you hear the grating roar Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling, At their return, up the high strand, Begin, and cease, and then again begin.

Open the window, and let the air Freshly blow upon face and hair And fill the room, as it fills the night, With the breath of the rain’s sweet might.

You, in the park, feeding the pigeons You cheering for the bees You with cats in your voice in the morning, feeding cats You protecting the river You are who I love.

For without words, in friendship, all thoughts, all desires, all expectations are born and shared, with joy that is unacclaimed.