Richard's Poor Almanac by Richard Thompson for October 03, 2015
in the autumn a poem in the autumn, when it's fall, mother nature comes to call on every hill, in every dale, in forest, meadow, field & vale, when skill she wields her magic brush, so brings the trees to brilliant bllush nature: we'll do the next one in a sort of harvest gold. squirrel: she knows they're just going to drop off, right? rabbit: you tell her. with her palette, bright & rich, and her taste for showy kitsch.