Indian Summer

This past week I was visited by my first Indian Summer, which, thank you wikipedia, is “a meteorological phenomenon that occurs in autumn, in the Northern Hemisphere. It is characterized by a period of sunny, warm weather, after the leaves have turned following an onset of frost, but before the first snowfall.”

After weeks of chill, a few summer days came up to visit us, and we soaked up the sun in quiet happiness. I took my day off with a couple of friends and visited Rhode Island. I found the state enchanting, and bigger too, than the map says. Perhaps deeper and taller, but bigger all the same. On a trek through some Rhode Island woods I learned the names of trees. I hope I remember them- I only know five so far. One of my favorites was this beech tree, and she gave me the following gifts. Hers was the show. Mine were the camera and pen.




The Indian Summer is for me
Gleefully whispered the young beech tree.

The young tree bold, her leaves grown old,
But gaily swaying, red and gold.

Gently gliding on the winds,
They reach sunlight, beech lithely bends.

Cold the leaves had started dying
Sinking down, beech humbly sighing

Bowing to the season’s call.
She’d had her spring, and knew the Fall.

But Indian Summer came to glaze
A summer glow before winter’s haze.

And now the lady leaves can leave
In half a week when winter breathes

In peace, for she twice she’d seen the sun
In peace, for winter has to come.