September's Song

We choose earth’s humble, finest seat

On golden-dappled lawn

To drink the muted melody

Of sweet September’s song

Where brawny breezes murmur

In crimson-tinted tress

As faded fronds of summer slip

Beneath its smooth caress

Oh, strike the tasseled timbrel

The brass of frost-kissed corn

Oh, dance upon the silver swell

Of diamond-dazzled morn

Profusion of a season’s worth

Of hours deck the soil

Percussion from the burnished earth

Blends beauty with our spoil

Oh, join this crooning choir

This overture of gold

In every leaf God’s power

And glory is extolled

A montage of mulled moments

Euphonic miracle

A canorous crescendo

To autumn’s pinnacle

© Janet Martin