End of September, a Beautiful Time

Autumn sun’s shimmering light, glorifies the day’s finale, at the top of the road, a beacon of fall. Through golden leaves, which are swiftly whisking off the proud oak’s strong-held branches, Alive with gentle glitzy touches of orange, and an occasional glimpse of yellow turning to red, The leaves land in the ditch, cushioning themselves as they land, happily joining their cousins, Giggling and laughing silently, unaware they will be damp, and cold, curling brown and stiff soon. The bottom leaves have already discovered the corpse of the raccoon but they keep their counsel, Not wanting to distress the top layers, who are still optimistically leaping from the oak, in joy. End of September, life turning into death, and back into life, one season birthing the next, A dance understood and appreciated by the oak, who has seen this dance longer than most. End of September, a beautiful time of pumpkin pies and Mason Jars full of apple butter. Larders full to bursting, a fantastic harvest, optimism at its height, the magnificent autumn dance. Written 9-24-2018 End of September Poetry Contest Sponsor: Brian Strand