Soaking in September

Sometimes a sweet, leisurely soak in September's tub

is exactly what the doctor ordered (or would if we'd ask!)

Somehow summer slipped by with not quite enough

just-sit-and-soak-it-in siestas!

So I took one today after the tots left 

before tackling a bowl full of tomatoes to preserve.

Soaking in September’s sauna steeps the soul with sheer delight

Ochre summer-embers don a dialect we cannot write

But feel; stealing, reeling through us in a sonnet, bittersweet

Like the wilding winds that woo us when the world is fast asleep

Soaking in September’s beauty is the perfect getaway

Where the darling call of duty makes Prudence time’s constant prey

And we could, if we’re not careful, miss the bliss of Here and Now

Where the tautness of toil’s bridle keeps us tethered to its plow

Soaking in September’s Garden leaves little to be desired

Before autumn begs our pardon as Eden-glints are retired

Buzz of bee in bell of flower, iced mint-tea or lemonade

Garnet orb in orchard-bower, pulsing cricket-serenade

Soaking in September’s glory makes us feel at home-sweet-home

Where each treetop tells a story and each posy spills a poem

Where the pleasure of earth’s treasure that we gather gratefully

Fills fruit-cellars with its measure and hearts with pure ecstasy

Soaking in September’s splendor wakes a worship-song within

As our spirits grow more tender where summer is wearing thin

Where the gleaming goldenrod, like tapers streams through field and dell

And, where we all become neighbours in the limelight of farewell

© Janet Martin

Garnet orb in orchard-bower, 

pulsing cricket-serenade (well, kind of...

and after-work rush-hour 😐)