Scent of change upon the breeze,
as we bid farewell to Summer.
Hear the softly spoken murmur,
of leaves changing in the trees.
The cooler nights begin to tease,
as we reach for blankets, warmer.
We try to stave off Winters rumour,
in the last warm days we seize.
The moon's harvest ring shines bright,
seems to be made of a bed of talcum.
Homes are sheltered, windows shut tight,
yet emit a feeling of welcome.
Wood smoke lends its flavor to night,
as I walk in the birth of Autumn.
For the contest; September-Your Choice
Sponsored by Brian Strand