A friend just e-mailed me a short note about autumn, and I realized that yesterday, the 23rd, was the first day of fall.

A little Emily Dickinson seems in order:

The morns are meeker than they were,
The nuts are getting brown;
The berry’s cheek is plumper,
The rose is out of town.

The maple wears a gayer scarf,
The field a scarlet gown.
Lest I should be old-fashioned,
I’ll put a trinket on.