Autumn carries more gold in its pocket than all the other seasons.

Autumn...the year's last, loveliest smile."

[Indian Summer]

The goldenrod is yellow,
The corn is turning brown...
The trees in apple orchards
With fruit are bending down.

The last dead leaves of fall crackled underfoot, winter-crisp.

October, baptize me with leaves! Swaddle me in corduroy and nurse me with split pea soup. October, tuck tiny candy bars in my pockets and carve my smile into a thousand pumpkins. O autumn! O teakettle! O grace!

The autumn leaves blew over the moonlit pavement in such a way as to make the girl who was moving there seem fixed to a sliding walk, letting the motion of the wind and the leaves carry her forward. [...] The trees overhead made a great sound of letting down their dry rain.