September
Crept closer
and playful skies
Had given way
To thickening August heat.
The smell of gathered wheat
In golden fields of grain
The harvest
Dampened by the rain
And children's cries
With running feet
Sowed muddy prints
Along the plashing street
Then brightness would lift
The billowing clouds
As a dying sun
Gazed her last
From neath a velvet shroud
A last walk
To taste the air
And all the ripening berries there
Down the dusky lane
Midst dust and rain
Scattering across the breezy lake
Where granite waves
Catch silver in their wake
My heart would break
To see this season end
So still I stand
And clutch the receding strands
Scents of early autumn blend
As softly laughing,
Summer slips
Like a child from the ancient"s hand.
Joe Morriss
25th August 2020
Upton
