Wednesday, September 30, 2020

Sweet September's Bon Voyage


We went from sun to rain in short order this morning,
in true fall fashion!
farewell, Belle of Autumn's Beginning and Summer's End.

By the time you read this... will be raining

The summer’s gleaming embers dim 
Upon the cooling hearth of earth 
The poet of September’s hymn 
Lures lyrics from the lamp-lit limb 
That tugs hearts twixt pathos and mirth 

The golden rod and aster maze 
Loses youth’s luster, dazed by frost 
While sumac sets the hills ablaze 
And mesmerizes mortal gaze 
With woodlands, orange and crimson-tossed 

The good land yields its dusty grip 
Where we had toiled beneath the sun 
And reveled in the fellowship 
Of seeds to swift fruition's slip 
Like deeds when they are bled and done 

The whisper of green fields of corn 
Becomes a rustling thoroughfare 
Where brittle minstrels fill the morn 
With autumn ambience reborn 
In climaxes beyond compare 

The orchard is a paradise 
For pickers and dreamers alike 
The apple is autumn’s First Prize 
Inducing mouth-watering sighs 
Before the unforbidden bite 

The shawl that sweet September weaves
Is full of holes, gossamer-webbed
Then patched with fall's first falling leaves
That scuttle round the feet of sheaves
Not gathered into harvest yet

September’s sad-sweet happiness 
Cannot keep summer’s door ajar 
But falls prey to the promises 
Of fall’s unbridled loveliness 
To comfort longing’s avatar 

Where Beauty broods and binds the wounds 
Left by sea-song and sun-kissed sand 
And turquoise-tinted afternoons 
That drifted like posy-pontoons 
Toward October’s Promised Land 

Farewell, farewell, September’s spark 
Is snuffed by winds that toss Time’s barge 
Filled with passengers that embark 
Upon oceans of early dark 
Beneath a Hand in perfect charge 

So, we sip hot cider and tea 
And try to keep our chins held high 
Because each season’s summery (oops, summary😉) 
Will always and forever be 
The springboard to wonder’s ‘oh my’ 

Then do not weep, but keep the quick 
Of summers yet to come intact 
Where we must all suffer the kick 
And weather the incumbent prick 
Of less friendly matters of fact 

Because we would not recognize 
Life’s Magnum Opus when it comes 
If we could always clasp The Prize 
Or indulge want’s quixotic sighs 
That breed ingratitude's rude sums 

September, loved like family 
 Disappears in fond-teared release 
Where God with kindly sympathy 
Does not slam summer’s door cruelly 
But grants October’s Masterpiece

© Janet Martin 

We celebrated End of September with Pumpkin Spice green tea!

It is Grand-daughter's first 'tea-taste'; 1/3 tea and 2/3 milk

I think she likes it...

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