Friday, September 19, 2014

Summer's Last Hurrah




Bronzed sienna, layered soft
Over coppice, creek and croft
Hazel haunts ‘neath azure eyes
Is September’s paradise

Summer falters where the fence
Frames furrows of recompense
Milkweed plume and goldenrod
Sweep September’s sleepy sod


 Mist of morning melts beneath
Ramparts bridging tumbled heath
Gardens spill their bric-a-brac
In September’s bivouac



Haze surrenders to the kiss
Of a keener, leaner bliss
Summer’s last hurrah runs bare
On September’s thoroughfare 

© Janet Martin

There is nothing we can do
to thwart Time from its due...
Each season bears its reason
Whatever its hue

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