The Name of it is "Autumn"

The skies are blustery grey, and the trees toss their red, orange and golden heads at the oncoming clouds; a single ray of sunlight bursts through the leaves suddenly and makes the Merrit Parkway a tunnel of luminous color. At times like this, I wonder if there could be a luckier person than I am, living my daily life against the incandescent colors of a New England fall. I hope I never get that used to it that I stop noticing. And alright, New Hampshire and Vermont, I grant that your foliage may be more breathtaking right now, but I don't live there.