Some simple autumn impressions
The day is as brittle as dragonflies' wings,
and crackles with breath.
Hushed and glittering the earth goes golden to its depth.
The sky is so blue it is silver,
the silver so clear it is glass.
I forget the sun is a sun;
the light seems immanent.
I gather up myself for harvest-time.
I want the work.
G. S. Morris