Dear September or, From a Poet's Stuttering...

Ps.148:1-6

Praise the Lord.[a]

Praise the Lord from the heavens;

praise him in the heights above.

2 Praise him, all his angels;

praise him, all his heavenly hosts.

3 Praise him, sun and moon;

praise him, all you shining stars.

4 Praise him, you highest heavens

and you waters above the skies.

5 Let them praise the name of the Lord,

for at his command they were created,

6 and he established them for ever and ever—

he issued a decree that will never pass away.

Happy, happy, final summer weekend of 2026!!

How grandly the gateway to summer's last Saturday, flung ajar!

White and purple aster-oceans, billow in gardens, exiled

Save by He who heaps earth's passion on September's smorgasbord...

my daughter just sent me the above photos, (used with permission) because

they were the perfect fit for today's poem and because

she was feeling exactly like me...thinking this year she won't fall in love with fall, then

something sparks and BAM!! head over heels we fall for fall!

You rush rapture's rivers through us; summer's last hurrah runs wild

Overflowing nature's storehouse with gold, no miser can hoard

White and purple aster-oceans, billow in gardens, exiled

Save by He who heaps earth's passion on September's smorgasbord

Your heavens declare God's glory; modern-day psalmists gaze, awed

As your ink spills a love story that surpasses mortal pen

As you bend vineyard and orchard with fruited favour from God 

As you seal the days of summer with Time's plum-pungent amen 

You must be an ardent lover; Hydrangea and sedum blush 

On your arm, butterflies hover, zinnia and salvia founts

Sparkle in a plumed piazza buzzing with the final rush

Of hummingbirds, bees and crickets; somewhere Jack Frost lurks and counts

...down Fair Flower's numbered hours, before he exacts his brass 

But for now you gild spilled bowers with an affront to his kiss   

Mauve milkweed, mullein-fringed fences, goldenrod and silver-grass

As you kindle summered senses with pumpkin and squash hued bliss

Dear September, you awaken a song of love and lament

Torn between scenes time has taken and its undefeated law  

Gently, where summer still lingers, where beauty is never spent 

You ease the grip of our fingers from summer, with autumn-awe 

...and chart pathways of osmosis through a confusion of blooms

Tangles of larkspur and cosmos catch at heart-strings, fluttering 

Where farewell's unflustered courtship draws us through disheveled rooms

Rousing humbled hymns of worship from a poet's stuttering   

Janet Martin

You must be an ardent lover; Hydrangea and sedum blush... 

 Tangles of larkspur and cosmos catch at heart-strings, fluttering...

 

Sweet Summer is Over...

“Summer afternoon—

summer afternoon;

 to me those have always been the two

 most beautiful words in the English language.”

― Henry James

Autumn Afternoon,

Autumn Afternoon

To me those have always been the second two

most beautiful words in the English language!

-Janet Martin 😂

Hello, pumpkin lanterns... 

and fronds orange and gold

Sweet summer is over, 

Farewell, fields of clover

Where butterflies hover and honey bees buzz 

Farewell, blue lake splashes 

Popsicle mustaches,

 Farewell, barefoot dashes through Summer That Was

Farewell, sweaty noses

And roses on roses

And dusk's gate that closes Today, late and slow

Farewell, flower-bower

And warm, welcome shower 

And treetops that tower o'er shade-pools below 

...where blithe breezes dally

where leaf-whispers rally

In rivers that sally through meadows of air 

To cheer all who listen

With lyrics that glisten 

With glimpses of Heaven on earth, full of care  

Farewell, garden growing

With seeds overflowing

With mercy bestowing the fruit in its hold  

Farewell, front porch planters

And dew-drop decanters

Hello, pumpkin lanterns and fronds orange and gold 

Hello, season dappled

With reason, red-appled

And gratitude grappled from goodness, profound 

Where summer is over

But hails to the lover

Of autumn, where favours of wonder abound  

Hello, nature's banjo

Hailing the crescendo

Of scarlet and yellow, of harvest's full swing 

As wind-tumbled pleasure

And hope-humbled treasure

 Kindles the fine measure of awed thanksgiving  

 

Janet Martin

....of harvest's full swing

As wind-tumbled pleasure...

...and hope-humbled treasure

 

  

Love's Purest Harvest

Teach us to number our days,

that we may gain a heart of wisdom.

Psalm 90:12

Thank-you, God, for the toil of rakes,

of pruning shears and petal-tears

and garden tours where farewell aches

with every tug and turn. As years

accumulate with searing ease;

sheaf upon sheaf

of memories

Thank you, God, for beggarly bliss

where happiness and hunger meld

where no morrow can cool the kiss

that weeps with joy at having held

and borne the sting of thorns to smell

the rose before

its petals fell

Thank-you, God, for the tender task

of tending graves; no cruel grief

is this; to linger thus, to bask

in the fullness of fallen leaf

and listen to the eulogy

that weans the whisper

from the tree

Thank-you God, for each little slice

of Heaven on earth’s dust-to-dust

season-altars of sacrifice

-es kindling utter wonder-lust

And humbler gratitude, to crown

Love’s tender teardrops

slipping down

© Janet Martin

A few more 'slices' 

of Heaven on earth’s dust-to-dust...

Winnowed World

Satisfy us in the morning with your unfailing love, 

 that we may sing for joy and be glad all our days.

Psalm 90:14

Without More to live for than This

life would be a leap of lack! 

But by the grace of God

we may sing for joy

and be glad all our days!

Time's season-circuit seems to spin faster and faster

as the years fly by...

I feel like I just planned and planted this year's gardens

and already we are gathering its final fare

and 'tucking' flower-haunts in for a nap!

Season-circuits sweep the surface

Of the earth and disappear

Before-after, sorrow-laughter

Meld in mementos of Here

Soft and subtle, brusque rebuttal

Grinds the gears of live-and-learn

Bitter-sweeter, dusk-defeater

Fuels flues of No Return

Buds and flowers, barren bowers

Season-circuit spins and spills

Giving, taking, sleeping, waking

Want and wonder taunts and thrills

One door opens while one closes

Rearranging points of view

Rush of roses soon exposes

Dust to dust’s inherent due

Tend to duty bent with beauty

Dazzling dreamlands laid to waste

Working, playing, hoping, praying

Lingering while hours haste

Sacred splendor, mean and tender

Keens the crux of have and hold

Kind and cruel binding duel

Weans Time’s tux of autumn-gold

Where the embers of September’s

Mellow, yellow flickers fade

Where the mettle of the petal

Falls like music-notes soft-played

Where the flurry of our hurry

Stirs a blur of Must-to-mist

Unfurled, winnowed world of windows

Full of faces farewell-kissed

© Janet Martin

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!