September Song
The corn is tall, the sky is wide,
golden fields on every side.
Apple-sweet, the morning air--
cool and crisp, beyond compare.
A hush beneath the harvest moon,
the rustling leaves a twilight tune.
The sun still lingers, soft and slow,
but shadows stretch and breezes blow.
September hums a quiet song,
of summer’s end, and dusk grown long.
With every note, the season turns--
a warmth that fades, a fire that burns.
The earth prepares its rest in hues
of orange dreams and mellow blues.
A song of change, both sweet and wise,
echoing under amber skies.
-Alesia Leach © 8/2015
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