My Favorite Season, Just Around the Corner!

Indian Summer

Along the line of smoky hills

The crimson forest stands

And all the day the bluejay calls

Throughout the autumn lands.

Now by the brook the maple leans,

With all her glory spread,

And all the sumacs on the hill

Have turned their green to red.

Now by great marshes wrapped in mist

Or past some rivers mouth,

Throughout the long cold autumn days,

Wild birds are flying south.

William Wilfred Campbell

Indian Summer

Along the line of smoky hills
The crimson forest stands,
And all the day the blue-jay calls
Throughout the autumn lands.

Now by the brook the maple leans
With all his glory spread,
And all the sumachs on the hills
Have turned their green to red.

Now by great marshes wrapt in mist,
Or past some river's mouth,
Throughout the long, still autumn day
Wild birds are flying south.

- See more at: http://allpoetry.com/poem/8484509-Indian-Summer-by-William-Wilfred-Campbell#sthash.oOMVAoPv.dpuf