As my subtitle concerns garden musing, I feel compelled to participate in this musing.
Harvest Home
The maples flare among the spruces,
The bursting foxgrape spills its juices,
The gentians lift their sapphire fringes
On roadways rich with golden tinges,
The waddling woodchucks fill their hampers,
The deer mouse runs, the chipmunk scampers,
The squirrels scurry, never stopping,
For all they hear is apples dropping
And walnuts plumping fast and faster;
The bee weighs down the purple aster -
Yes, hive your honey, little hummer,
The woods are waving, "Farewell, Summer."
Arthur Guiterman