….was het al een beetje zover:
Indian summer, van Emily Dickinson
These are the days that Birds come back –
A very few- a Bird or two-
To take a backward look. Thes are the days
when skies resume
The old- old sophistries of June-
A blue and gold mistake. Oh fraud that cannot
cheat the Bee-
Almost that plausibility
Induces my belief. Till ranks of seeds their
witness bear-
And softly thro’ the altered air
Hurries a timid leaf. Oh sacrament of summer days,
Oh Last Communion in de Haze-
Permit a child to join. Thy sacred emblems to partake-
Thy consecrated bread to take
And thine immortal wine!