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