September's Brush

The raindrops splay their silver notes
Against the darkened pane
And on the night air softly floats
The scent of dusty lane
The cheek of child and apple-limb
Have donned a rosy blush
And far too soon the daylight dims
Beneath September’s brush

The tumbled pasture wakes at dawn
Beneath a frosty dew
Where August's blazing hours shone
For a brief dance or two
But now the walnut leaf is gold
As gnarled fingers crush
The moments slipping from my hold
Borne on September’s brush

The garden boasts its grand hurrah
In gold and orange and red
The grapes are heavy on the wall
As Summer bows its head
And we unto our Maker bow
Who guides the seasons thus
As August to September flows
Beneath time's eager brush

The lengthened evening sighs upon
The shadows long and gray
As twilight in a great blue yawn
Snuffs out another day
I lay upon the shoulder of
A fading summer’s hush
The shades are turning colder, love
Upon September’s brush

Janet Martin~

I’m caught in its bitter-sweetness tonight…
…of time and life.