Elizabeth, the poem is Indian Summer, by William Wilfred Campbell (1858?-1918).
You original is wonderful too. I especially like the last line.
Thanks for all these posted poems. (Yeah go ahead - something about "nailed it"...)
Birches is among my favorites, in any season. It reminds me of swings of my own and of glad courting times with my wife (to be) in a grove of them.

Last edited by Owlbow; 11/02/05 02:42 PM.