Week #5--Improv #2

Autumn

                                    by John Keats

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness!

            Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;

Conspiring with him to lead and bless

            With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run,

To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,

            And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;

                 To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells

            With a sweet kernel, to set budding more

And still more, later lovers for the bees;

Until they think warm days will never cease;

            For summer has o’er-brimmed their clammy cells.

Georgia

by Pauline Rodwell

Land of pines and fall flamboyance!

            Neighborly terrain steeped in iron-rich soil;

Plowed and sown to yield yearly abundance

            To growers and anyone willing to toil

At pruning the peach trees to deep shades of summer

            And plucking sweet specimens in their prime;

                  To harness quick streams and plant fertile dreams

            Of soybeans, peanuts, and muscadine wine,

And at moon-harvest time, sharing her yield with every newcomer;

So that no pioneer pains from his homesick hunger;

            For other states pale beside her palette of greens.