Autumn's Entry...

 Autumn's Entry
By Helen Felder

       Last night summer fled; and this morning, long before I thought of crawling out, Autumn danced out upon the treetops and blew her breath over the land. The sky responded with the bluest of blues; a maple near my window blushed. I was coaxed out of bed to get a glimpse of lofty city spires striving to pierce the blue.
       Autumn was such a jolly companion. She ran before me with her tongue in her cheek - such a playful rogue! Perhaps I was especially in her favor as I sauntered down the elm-bordered streets - perhaps, she was not even aware of me. At any rate I escaped the snobbery of her hand-maidens. True, they whispered to themselves as I passed - but all things whisper.
       At each step I crushed under foot a few faintly-struggling little autumnal people. It was probably better for them to die quickly than to linger as outcasts beyond the pale of Autumn's favor. In their youthful beauty Dame Nature had been delighted to consider them her daughters; but when they grew old and shrivelled she disowned them. She ordered Autumn to drop them from her calling list.
       I walked up the street and sang blithely. Why did I sing? I suppose that, womanlike, I sympathized with Autumn.