The Moon of Painted Leaves © Otis Hite

IDEALS Autumn Issue 1957

There’s a tang of winter

On October’s breath tonight,

And frosty crystals glisten

In the moonbeams cold and bright

A veil of mist is rising

From the river’s cooling tide,

And a bobcat sends his challenge

Ringing down the mountainside

The scarecrow ‘mid the corn shocks

Still flaps a ragged arm

To righten off marauders

And keep the grain from harm

The cow’s bell drowsy tinkle

As she slowly munches hay,

Is mingled with the music

Of a coon hound’s distant bay.

Ah, it is a spell bewitching

That old nature round us weaves

With her magic charm and splendor

In the moon of painted leaves.