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...

...it 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...