Emily Dickinson: These Are the Days When Birds Come Back

I'm grateful for these last few 
warm October nights (always 
thinking each one is the last) because 
I am able to savor the last 
bits of summer (blissful memories) when 
I pop open my window, allowing 
the breeze to seep into everything. 

The sound of dried, rustling leaves 
and the constant drizzle lull me
to sleep and bring me
dreams of what once was, seemingly 
so long ago. I spend an eternity in these moments.