Here's a free-verse poem I wrote at the beginning of the month, when I was struck with the prospect of summer's closing~
"Where Did You Come From, September?"
Where did you come from, September?
Summer was a blur of watering and weeding, fighting bugs and weather,
Then harvesting and putting by.
And animals making due in rude shelters on the ground.
The suddenly you arrived, September,
Bringing a change to light and leaves and sounds of airplanes reverberating in the air.
And insects who know their songs will soon be silenced, singing all the livelong night and day.
Though you yourself are mild, September,
You breathe the words, "Prepare for winter!" into my very soul.
And I know I must make tight the shelters of both beast and man,
And must work hard as I can before you take wing,
Taking with you the last of summer's bounty and barefoot days.
And the flowers' blossoms that I love.
9 September 2018
