My Own September Poem :
*IN MEMORY OF LABOR DAY WEEKENDS*
Wild, warm September!
Let me
dance at your knee!
An amber waltz still rustling
Sweet leaves
yet to fall;
Tanned
hands gathering
Baskets
of vibrant
Pink cone-flowers hidden
Behind an
umber-brown
Barn bearing
apples.
Placid
water spouts
Take a
spin on earth's
Third carousel
of seasons;
Swans salute
copper-colored
Currents,
as they drift by
Continuously,
through the
Languid
bliss of
An aging
summer and
Its humid
afternoons.
Rustic, red wheelbarrows
Pair their
rusty palette with
Melodious
wind chimes and
Faint whispers of gathering storms...
As the
sun gently strains
To kiss
your forehead,
You wipe
away the sweat
Of many labors lost;
It's high
time to breathe
In the heavy
morning mist
And simple sunsets.
This,
before life's pending
Frosts arrive
And the Wintry
Winds
Accost...
Poem written by Lisa Porter-Grenn
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