By Christine Swanberg
Author and Poet
As summer fades and we head into September, here is a poem for that special time.
September slips its golden tips on trees
that lightly shimmer in September’s breeze.
The hummingbirds begin their southern flight,
tiny wings fluttering with all their might.
Orchards yield abundant fruit: honey crisp
as the night grows close and cool, and frost rips
through the pumpkins, grown brightest orange and round.
Milk pod fluff floats and lands on hardened ground,
where soon the sunset maple’s leaves will fall.
September is a transitory call,
a golden bridge from season unto season.
If we find ourselves beyond our reason
in someplace in between, we remember
all creatures dance to change in September.
Forthcoming in internal chapbook, Sonnets and Other Incantations, Minotaur Press.
Christine Swanberg is a local author and poet. She received the Lawrence E. Gloyd Community Impact Award at the 2012 Rockford Area Arts Council State of the Arts Awards.
Posted Aug. 26, 2014