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New England boasts two months, both best

for inviting tourists or cherished guests.

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Shall I hope you will come some

lush May that's dressed in pastel air,

or this October, red and copper everywhere.

(My guess is you will not come.)

We could float to Harvard Square

through the yellow leaves, a magic pair,

toward the enchanted hum and strum

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of musicians, jazzy or sweet

as any on Italian streets

(my heart the accompanying drum).

In this the year's most burnished time,

of harvests and thanksgiving I'm

waiting to hear if you can come.