Autumn Thoughts

Aster seed puffs.

Hoar-Frost

Amy Lowell

In the cloud-grey mornings
I heard the herons flying;
And when I came into my garden,
My silken outer-garment
Trailed over withered leaves.
A dried leaf crumbles at a touch,
But I have seen many Autumns
With herons blowing like smoke

Across the sky.