I took a walk today in a nearby park and loved the serenity that comes from wind rustling in the leaves and the beauty of the changing seasons.

That time of year thou mayst in me behold

When yellow leaves , or none, or few, do hang

Upon those bows which shake against the cold,

Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.

In me thou see'st the twilight of such day..

"Section of Sonnet 73 by William Shakespeare"