September's Winding Road
There is on a green hill, a winding road,
Where September golden rods are blooming,
Even the sandy path bears reflections
A line of fence posts, lavender shadows
Twining purple morning glory faces
Reaching, desiring the cool autumn sun,
Footprints follow, one little pair, no two
Questions of wonder suspending in air.
Gazing up that lovely road of new fall,
One's eyes strain to peer beyond the path's rise,
Where blue and gold mists meet the autumn sky,
With a new generation, a new school.
And an unremembered Meadow of Dreams
Illumines hidden caverns of the mind.
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