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  • Writer's pictureLeann Shamash


The telltale signs are all there- mid September is here

I want to believe it is summer but my senses tell me otherwise...

The clock says 6:30 AM but the sky is still dim

The chorus of the crickets is softer now

Acorns fall one by one, rocketing to the ground

as they are rudely released by their mother one by one

With a thousand bounces, they wait to be carried away by the squirrels

And buried under the grass for winter snacks

Is that sadness in the wind?

The smell of Concord grapes is carried sweetly in the breeze

Their perfume colors the air purple

We will never have enough sweet corn to satisfy us

But the yellows of corn pivots to reds as the apples ripen

And the pumpkins sit on the vine growing fatter each day

Looking like great orange goblins crouching in the field

There is change in the air

The leaves of the chestnut trees are crisply edged with yellow and brown

Thorny chestnuts readying for the big tumble downward

On the tangled grass they hide, spikes hiding the smooth seed inside

The mist now hovers like a veil over the lake on cool mornings

Early swimmers still glide silently through the water

Ripples trail them like long pleats on a tailored dress

The rains are coming, snow not far behind

The sun, once a friend who stayed late for dinner

Now makes a speedy exit for his early bedtime

Leaving our table shaded and missing his company

Vegetable plants begin their slow decline as a thin coat of white covers leaves

Leaves mottled, stems bending slightly like elderly gentlemen

They have given all they have to give and now can rest

The birds are getting restless, preparing for their journeys

Pokeweed blazes purple as it grows alongside the roads

Beckoning to the birds to visit its splaying branches

Milkweed stands tall alongside goldenrod beckoning to butterflies

The weather veers widely from day to day, never knowing where it will go next

Cool, warm and then hot, rain then dry and rain again

Mother Nature performs her dizzying autumn dance as she twirls toward October

Close your eyes and dream of the fleeting beauty of September

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