Wide fields of what are ripe again,
Broad seas of amber grain.
Green corn is done with plowing
Across the fertile plain.
Fruit bends the boughs of orchards low
And gardening is good–
Fresh turnips, beets and cabbage,
Crisp close-to-nature food.
Hens cackle in the hayloft;
Birds sing all afternoon,
And shortly after whippoorwills
Will be a golden moon.
Ideals Autumn