September's Change September's tread, Deceptive still in leafy green And a stubborn weakened sun, That shimmers in a bitter cold breeze, Against a stunning sky. But a blue clarity That belies warmth. The taste of autumn On stinging lips, Cheeks flushed in red of wind And fingers thrust Into the first pockets of season's change. While booted feet kick The first leaves in fall. The whistling wind taunts, Bringing thoughts of ever shortening days. Where the smiles of strangers Are wrapped in scarves or Veiled in canopied umbrellas. As leaves fall and rain falls, The blue skies of summer Passed to endless grey. And September slowly Answers autumn's call. _____________________________ No one offically says summer is over, or autumn is here. But it happens in an inexorable, unseen, present change. A week before and the sun poured pleasant heat on your short-sleeved arms. But now it shines weakly and you walk on, shrouded in your heavy coat, wrapped against the cold winds of autumn.
