4 Poems About Fall That’ll Have You Ready To Sip Apple Cider

Although Autumn, technically, has arrived, we’re still awaiting the first sign of leaves changing, those perfectly chilled days, and pumpkin-carving season. That’s why we’re welcoming the first week of October with four Autumn poems that are certain to stir up all those fall feelings of pumpkin spice, warm apple cider, perfect sweater weather, and ghastly Halloween ghouls.


  1. Neighbors in October, BY DAVID BAKER

All afternoon his tractor pulls a flat wagon 

with bales to the barn, then back to the waiting 

chopped field. It trails a feather of smoke. 

Down the block we bend with the season: 

shoes to polish for a big game, 

storm windows to batten or patch. 

And how like a field is the whole sky now 

that the maples have shed their leaves, too. 

It makes us believers—stationed in groups, 

leaning on rakes, looking into space. We rub blisters 

over billows of leaf smoke. Or stand alone, 

bagging gold for the cold days to come.

Autumn still life









2. November Night, BY ADELAIDE CRAPSEY


With faint dry sound, 

Like steps of passing ghosts, 

The leaves, frost-crisp’d, break from the trees 

And fall.

37 YXV0dW1uIGxlYXZlcyBzaGFsbG93IGRvZiAyIDEzMDcuanBn

3. The Road Not Taken, BY ROBERT FROST

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.


4. Song of the Witches: “Double, double toil and trouble”, BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

(from Macbeth)

Double, double toil and trouble; 

Fire burn and caldron bubble. 

Fillet of a fenny snake, 

In the caldron boil and bake; 

Eye of newt and toe of frog, 

Wool of bat and tongue of dog, 

Adder’s fork and blind-worm’s sting, 

Lizard’s leg and howlet’s wing, 

For a charm of powerful trouble, 

Like a hell-broth boil and bubble. 

Double, double toil and trouble; 

Fire burn and caldron bubble. 

Cool it with a baboon’s blood, 

Then the charm is firm and good.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s