Dear Readers: Below are some of my favorite quotes about fall and the changing of seasons. I hope you enjoy their words as much as I do.

Ralph Waldo Emerson reminded us, “Each moment of the year has its own beauty.” He also believed, “Nature always wears the colors of the spirit.”

Henry David Thoreau urged us, “Live in each season as it passes; breathe the air, drink the drink, taste the fruit, and resign yourself to the influence of the earth.” He also wrote, “October is the month of painted leaves.”

Margaret Fuller offered her faith in change: “Today a reader, tomorrow a leader.”

John Keats began his “To Autumn” with the unforgettable: “Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, close bosom-friend of the maturing sun.”

Emily Dickinson, with her sharp brevity, wrote: “Besides the Autumn poets sing, a few prosaic days.” She also gave us this picture: “The morns are meeker than they were, the nuts are getting brown; the berry’s cheek is plumper, the rose is out of town.”

Robert Frost captured the ache of beauty passing: “Nature’s first green is gold, her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf’s a flower; but only so an hour.”

Rainer Maria Rilke heard the season’s solemn music: “Lord, it is time. The summer was immense. Lay your shadow on the sundials, and on the meadows let the winds go loose.”

William Blake praised the cycle: “O Autumn, laden with fruit, and stained with the blood of the grape, pass not, but sit beneath my shady roof.”

George Eliot wrote, “Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns.”

Alfred Lord Tennyson captured the melancholy side: “Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, tears from the depth of some divine despair, rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, in looking on the happy autumn-fields.”

So, when you find yourself watching the leaves fall from the trees, remind yourself that fall is not just about endings; it is about beginnings as well. The leaves may drop, but the roots hold steady. The fields may rest, but spring is waiting its turn.

Let the poets keep you company as you sip something warm, take a walk under red, orange and green trees and breathe the crisp air in. They’re whispering the same message across the years: every season, especially this one, has its own kind of beauty, and it’s worth pausing to notice.

Because sometimes, the best way forward is to let go — just like the trees do.