Bed of Leaves
The nicest bed I know
Isn’t a bed of soft white snow.
Isn’t a bed of cool green grass
After the noisy mowers pass.
Isn’t a bed of yellow hay
Making me itch for half a day
But Autumn leaves in a pile that high,
Deep and smelling like fall and dry.
That’s the bed where I like to lie
And watch the flutters of Fall go by.
by Aileen Fisher
Aileen Lucia Fisher was born on 9 September 1906 in Iron River, Michigan, United States of America. She became a writer of poetry, children’s books, biographies, plays, and magazine articles. Aileen Lucia Fisher passed on at 96 years of age on 2 December 2002 in Boulder, Colorado, United States of America.
The nicest bed I know
Isn’t a bed of soft white snow.
Isn’t a bed of cool green grass
After the noisy mowers pass.
Isn’t a bed of yellow hay
Making me itch for half a day
But Autumn leaves in a pile that high,
Deep and smelling like fall and dry.
That’s the bed where I like to lie
And watch the flutters of Fall go by.
by Aileen Fisher
Aileen Lucia Fisher was born on 9 September 1906 in Iron River, Michigan, United States of America. She became a writer of poetry, children’s books, biographies, plays, and magazine articles. Aileen Lucia Fisher passed on at 96 years of age on 2 December 2002 in Boulder, Colorado, United States of America.
