Of Spent Summer or Of Summer Spent

 Happy First Day of Fall 

The hour is upon us

Where bower, fen and dell

Are laden with the onus

Of flowering farewell

The season of Spent Summer

Like an ocean of stars

Hangs soft upon the tremor

Of autumn’s kindled bars

In thrum of shadow-dapples

In rum-colored remains

In sums of plums and apples

And wild aster-fringed lanes

In diamond studded fretwork

Of gossamer design

Where spider’s artful network

Dazzles shrubs, gates and vines

In countless ways and wonders

Of teeming crook and crease

Earth’s quiet canvas thunders

With many a masterpiece

In Cana lily taper

Brandishing scarlet flares

In leaves, like gilt-edged paper

A Fine Author prepares

In 'toxicating scents of

Ginger, cinnamon, cloves

In foraged storage boxes

For sweaters, scarves, hats, gloves

In zinnia pomp and splendor

In bossy blue jay shriek

In contemplative candor

Of truths time cannot tweak

In hunts for garden treasure

Of Yukon gold and such

In savoring the measure

Of moments meeting/meting touch

In revamped whims and wishes

In sun-glossed tassels tossed

With Jack Frost's first soft kisses

And roses summer lost

The hour is upon us

Where the gleam in Time’s gaze

Stokes a sacred awareness

Of man’s flower-like days

© Janet Martin

...and what a stunning debut to the first day of fall!