I think this poet must have lived in the Northwest...
The Mist and All
I like the fall, The mist and all.
I like the night owl’s lonely call –
And wailing sound of wind around.
I like the grey November day,
And bare, dead boughs,
That coldly sway, against my pane,
I like the rain.
I like to sit and laugh at it –
‘And tend my cozy fire a bit,
I like the fall, The mist and all
Special credit for remembering this poem goes to my Grade 4 teacher - Mr. Rogers. Each and every grey November day it runs through my mind, and every misty, rainy day too in other months. I guess I have to admit rote memorization and recitations are good for something later in life. Cheers Mr. Rogers!