Do you feel it in the air? The last whispers of summer are slipping away. Many of us grow wistful this time of year, and dear Emily Dickinson (1830-1886) was no exception. Fortunately, she could find words for the sense of loss that accompanies the passing of a cherished season. One of the greatest of all nature poets expressed the ineffable in a work first published as October, but usually referenced by its first, evocative line:

These are the days when Birds come back –
A very few — a Bird or two –
To take a backward look.

These are the days when skies resume
The old — old sophistries of June –
A blue and gold mistake.

Oh fraud that cannot cheat the Bee –
Almost thy plausibility
Induces my belief.

Till ranks of seeds their witness bear –
And softly thro’ the altered air
Hurries a timid leaf.

Oh Sacrament of summer days,
Oh Last Communion in the Haze –
Permit a child to join.

Thy sacred emblems to partake –
They consecrated bread to take
And thine immortal wine!