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Published: November 14, 2009

I greeted the new day happily,
But the sky was a gray that scowled at me,
And the wind was a voice that turned away,
A sigh that hoped that I couldn’t stay.
I saw a cloud with ragged edge,
And a rumpled tree and a rusty hedge
And drifts of leaves, and I almost wept
At the cluttered scene, at the world unswept,
At a season tired and old and grieving,
Grumbling, “Excuse me, I was just leaving!”

November 15, 1958, The Saturday Evening Post

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