(Joseph MacRae, 1992)
Indian Summer
To sit beneath the maple tree,
in hazy days of Indian Summer.
To watch the late afternoon sun,
as it slowly descends upon the West.
To smell the cool fresh breeze
gently blowing from the North.
To listen to the whisper
of the golden leaves
rustling gently in the breeze,
as if to tell us, winter will soon
return....
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