Autumn

by Emily Dickinson

The morns are meeker than they were,
The nuts are getting brown;
The berry's cheek is plumper,
The rose is out of town.

The maple wears a gayer scarf,
The field a scarlet gown.
Lest I should be old-fashioned,
I'll put a trinket on.

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Today is the official first day of fall, and I could list here an explanation of why it's this day, what it means weather-wise, but what it really means is that we are in my favorite season. I like 'em all, but fall is so lovely. Maybe because it is so short, it is so sweet.