The Earth Turns South/Tipsiness

by Clement Richardson Wood

IV.

Tipsiness

The wine-red sedges stain the rolling hillsA spreading, dusky crimson; and the windsThat frolic there, go reeling forth amongThe sober apple orchards; which, grown gray,Spill down their jolly fruit, until the fieldsAre cidery; and buxom mother earthSways, tipsy with the fullness of the year.