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