September-gold

Were I an artist of easel

And could I paint fair nature’s scene

I’d choose September’s tarnished sprawl

Of dusty blue and burnished green

And if my palette would but hold

One shade, I think I would choose gold

The gold of harvest, not yet gleaned

Of heavy sunlight gently screened

By not-quite-gold of maple leaf

I’d paint the gold of cornstalk sheaf

And golden-rod, sun-flower bloom

The gold of honeyed afternoon

The walnut leaf that stilly falls

Where summer fades and cricket calls

I’d paint the gold of late-day hush

The hill of parched and tangled brush

Where once we watched springtime unfold

Before earth traded green for gold

Gold-golden pear and golden tea

Canvas of golden memory

Ah, sweet September languishing

Against a summer wearying

Where every shade within its hold

Before it fades must pass through gold

© Janet Martin