by Emily Dickinson

The morns are meeker than they were,
The nuts are getting brown;
The berry’s cheek is plumper,
The rose is out of town.

The maple wears a gayer scarf,
The field a scarlet gown.
Lest I should be old-fashioned,
I’ll put a trinket on.

I love this treasure of a poem I found by this undiscovered poet of her time (of the 1,800 poems she wrote only 7 were ever published)… and I’ve been contemplating what the modern equivalent might be to ‘put a trinket on’?