Autumn in Upstate New York

The early morning fog is burned away by the pale October sun; Color dotted hills line the long stretch of highway we are on; There are forty souls on this bus; Laughter is inside, beauty is outside. Autumn in New York. I crane my head to see every rolling hillside; every maple and chestnut tree. Along the road, I see every tiny village; Houses, barns, horses, and dairy cows; grazing . A perfect blue sky. The land of the Susquehanna, is were I call home,; but here, in this vast valley, the mighty Hudson River rolls. From Binghamton to Albany, and to the Massachusetts border, The Creator paints his canvas in bright, autumn colors. I smell the crisp, clean smell of country air; Tiny roadside stands sell apples, hot cider, and Indian corn; it makes me proud to be a New Yorker; the state where I was born.