September’s song
Crisp and brown, heads down
No more responsive to the hours
The sunflowers sorry stand
Where once they shocked
Battalions dazzling yellow
The early autumn fruits
Reds russets plums
Are ready for the jar, preserving pan
And soon the lanes and fields will fill
As grapes are harvested,
Heaped in trucks and trundled to the vats
Overhead in flocks bee-eaters noisy churr
The swifts black scythes the swallows
Streaming swoop, more homely martins
Criss-cross in aerobatic show
All readying for off
For flying further south
Summer’s heat is tempered
The year’s in dying fall
Crisp and brown, heads down
No more responsive to the hours
The sunflowers sorry stand
Where once they shocked
Battalions dazzling yellow
The early autumn fruits
Reds russets plums
Are ready for the jar, preserving pan
And soon the lanes and fields will fill
As grapes are harvested,
Heaped in trucks and trundled to the vats
Overhead in flocks bee-eaters noisy churr
The swifts black scythes the swallows
Streaming swoop, more homely martins
Criss-cross in aerobatic show
All readying for off
For flying further south
Summer’s heat is tempered
The year’s in dying fall
farewell
fugue
September's plangent song
13th September 2010, Hounoux
Your birthday and this poem are reminders of all that is wonderful about September as I struggle with blacker thoughts of term start and summer's end. I am really enjoying the light this month, I keep smiling at Hopper moments and, memories of my first Hopper moments earlier this year.
ReplyDeleteAh yes Jude, the Hopper bright bright white light. We still have such gorgeous blue clear days of sunshine and sunsets. Saw the first vines being harvested today. September is always 'my month' but does always make me think of dying light and the year's end and summer on its way. Today went to our perfumed garden in Limoux- still a little piece of paradise.
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