September
September
The light is angelic;
People turn to shadows, shadows to people.
The heat of Summer cools, steps aside to Fall,
The trees burst into slow flame,
Reminding me that everything must die,
But not die sans glory.
This the time when Summer's bright exuberance dies
This the time when something deep within me cries.
This the time when remembrance holds sway.
This the time when night conquers day.
This the time when the moon hangs lonely
In a powder blue sky;
This the time when the heart thinks only
Of the unknown Wherefore, the Unreasoned Why
September is the birth and death of all,
The source of all our sorrows,
The womb of our tomorrows
A wine of glory and of gall -
This the time I gather myself,
When I ask myself, as I always do -
Have I done my best?
Have my deeds been true?
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