Yes, it’s that time again. But September is proceeding gently this year.
Summer came late this year
as though afraid to raise
Now miracles of light bathe fields in gold
to match the transformed leaves of trees,
maize harvest not yet under way.
The sky is clear,
and warmth remains,
while Autumn hovers in the wings.
Her stage fright lingers
to stave off approaching
heavy dew and nightly chill.
Winter can wait.
This is a re-written version of a poem I wrote last Autumn, which was wilder and colder than this one! for dVerse Open Link Night.