SEPTEMBER

Battle front of summer and autumn,

Moodily swinging between the two.

Crisp, still nights bring out jackets,

Forgotten in the backs of closets,

and the first, sweet scent of wood smoke

curls from chimneys as frost looms.

Morning mists whisper the story

of the coolness of the air

And the remnant heat

accrued by the earth

during the long, hot days of summer.

Fields and orchards

bear their generous harvests,

And prepare for a blanketed repose.

The landscape fades gently

from rich, deep sap greens

to softer, burnished yellow-browns,

As the hardwood forest separates itself

from the enduring conifers,

Donning autumn finery before disrobing completely.

Vermilion and cadmium clusters

burst like popcorn, seemingly overnight.

Wild creatures scurry busily,

Chattering their endless lists of chores,

As winter beds are made, and food is stored.

And in the sky, their avian counterparts

Wing relentlessly southward

Taking with them their summer melodies.

Soon, we all know,

The world will become still and dormant again.

But as September lingers,

Reprieve sings a song chorus equal parts defiant and sweet.