Author Emily Dickinson 332 There are two Ripenings—one—of sight— Whose forces Spheric wind Until the Velvet product Drop spicy to the ground— A homelier maturing— A process in the Bur— That teeth of Frosts alone disclose In far October Air. Tags october wind alone Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments