The Mist and All

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The Mist and All

I like the fall,
The mist and all.
I like the night owl’s
Lonely call—
And wailing sound
Of wind around.

I like the gray
November day,
And bare, dead boughs
That coldly sway
Against my pane.
I like the rain.

I like to sit
And laugh at it—
And tend
My cozy fire a bit.
I like the fall—
The mist and all—

~ Dixie Willson

I love the sounds in this poem, the rhythm and rhymes. Willson's words paint a picture in my head -- I  imagine myself relaxing by a crackling fire, rocking back and forth in a rocking chair, perhaps, and gazing out my window at the autumn mist. What do you see or hear or feel when you read the poem?