Tenth September Blog.
Ninth Month Melody
Waning light. The days draw in.
September flounces her skirts,
Ruffles her petticoats,
Shakes out the summer dust,
Lets fall the golden/orange leaves,
Brushes up the brown debris of forests
To cover her feet, keeping her warm
Before she settles her winter bedding.
She will sleep, dreaming of late sumner heat.
She breathes deeply of sunkissed air,
All mellow and drowsy. She rests.
Squirrels chitter in the gloaming,
Birds whoi stay for the northern winter, fatten.
Wild mice chew meadow seeds,
Building fat to see them through
The chill times ahead.
It is an old, old song, sung every September,
For she is the harbinger of autumn,
She is the guardian of Fall.
Her bonnet is tied with vine ribbons
That float in the last tender breezes.
She calls all animals to find dry nests.
Soothes summer plants, bedding them
Down before the cold wind blows,
Hugs all creatures to her snug bosom.
All Hail September,
We know your tune so well.
Music played on creaking branches,
Melodies sung in crackling dry leaves.
Gently hummed on cool misty mornings.
As first frosts crispen her last days,
She covers the ground with hoar rime
It is her swansong, her farewell to the year.
Copyright Evelyn J. Steward. September, 2015.
I have posted this poem on FB etc. already but as it is the last day of September, I am leaving it in this blog.
Suddenly, the year has flown by. I suppose, because we hardly had any summer here in Great Britain this year, I felt that it dragged earlier, and, although wr have been basking in a few sunny ( somewhat cooler) days, it has hardly been balmy, and now the time is flying along.
October is on our doorstep, knocking on the doors and windows. Soon light frosts will touch a few lowland meadows. Hoar rime will coat branches of already (dropped leaf) trees. Many still are in summer greenery, but a few are just on the turn, on the cusp, as it were, of winter’s edge.
Starting to think about our upcoming seasonal holiday. Barely a whisper, at this point, but t.v. stores and supermarkets are beginning to parade items for holiday use. And true enough, it has to be planned. Far enough ahead to sort out kcosts, menus, gifts even. Certainly, this is the planning stage.
So, gird your loins, get prepared, in readiness – it’s starting to ramp up, if not now, very, very soon. The time will rush past, like a river in spate.
Going, Going, Almost Gone.
Sun sinking lower
In a western sky.
To a fervent sigh.
Turning yellow abd red,
Others still greeh
As they shake their heads.
On clear moonlit nights,
Stars above glitter,
In a firmament, bright.
Cool days of autumn
Listen, they tell us
A chill winter song.
Copyright Evelyn J. Steward. September 30th, 2015.
Be careful in the world, everyone.