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The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year,Of waili

The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year,
Of wailing winds and naked woods and meadows brown and sere.
Heaped in the hollows of the grove, the autumn leaves lie dead;
They rustle to the eddying gust, and to the rabbit – William Cullen Bryant

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My sorrow, when shes here with me, thinks these dark days of autumn rain are beautiful as days can be; she loves the bare, the withered tree; she walks the sodden pasture lane. – Robert Frost

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Summer breeze, light fluffy clouds… Mother Nature has a canvas for every season. – Terri Guillemets

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March is a tomboy with tousled hair, a mischievous smile, mud on her shoes and a laugh in her voice. – Hal Borland

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