There is simply
something about September
My aging heart will always remember.
We stood ‘neath the oasis of trees on the prairie,
And listening as he made it his job to carry
Wind to branches heavy with summer’s green
In a whirling dervish remaining unseen.
His giant breath seemed to exhale in a burst,
Great gusts and then smaller puffs, not first.
It was if there was a message, a warning,
Telling of winter, his practice burning,
Into our minds to know,
Soon there would be snow.
And although the time was pleasant
Where warmth and good were present,
To make us wish to cling forever,
To September and his fair weather.
