These Hazy Days

Autumn; Quickly Has She Fallen

Autumn; quickly has she fallen,
Plumed in white and plum.
With pearls and leaves hung round her neck,
She taps an auburn drum.

Sounds it makes like descending rain,
Lighter than a feather—
On darker days when she, mourning, beats
It forewarns of thunderous weather.

Autumn from the sky has come,
Dropped here by a hasty sun;
Sire to the Shriveled Crop
Too soon let his grasp undone.

Now she's landed on my earth,
Yes, the very one I walk upon—
I scarce believe it for myself,
This too-soon phenomenon.

But she's adjusted easily, flustered by so little;
She sends out winds and downpour dins
And sings joyfully with her fiddle.