Thinking Poetically on the Season

September is a favorite month for many. Steven, I think likes it best. Anyhow, here is a poem that expresses my feelings about it .

SEPTEMBER (by Linda G. Paulsen)

September comes: a respite

from heat-beaten days

that linger long into night

and paint the valley’s dusty haze

in tired colors. I’m ready now

to crunch through heaps of leaves that blow

and rattle on the sidewalk, to

curl in a comfy chair and read

while the wind whines in blue

and orange lamentations. I need

to see rusty colors on the hill,

and watch bird brigades drill

in the sky. It is time

for eating cobs of sweet corn

and pickled watermelon rind,

for cotton sweaters and socks worn

to pick apples, and to pack

school lunch in a paper sack.

I want the air to cool and crack

its knuckles in my ears, to

forget my umbrella and back

into a doorway, breathing through

the rain. Now I welcome autumn’s

tawny herald. September comes.