Enlivening scent from a hundred
Wood-burning stoves rises heavenward.
The air feels
Renewed, as if Earth has shed her old
Coverlets and put on clean starched sheets.
Though not cold,
The nipping wind brings a robust glow
To the cheeks of merry passers-by.
Robed in brilliant vestures of scarlet,
Regard the wind's mischievous play with
Attending more to the fat squirrels
Dodging and gamboling in their boughs.
Throngs of geese fly in V-formation,
In quest of watery encampments.
The setting sun, kindly patriarch,
Sees all, and smiles benevolently.