For Jcb Brul's When Summer Is Gone Poetry Contest
Ah, my birth month’s time is nigh. September’s blue asters soon will bloom, their scent lingering in the sighs of melancholy breezes, and still I will hear the whispering of ephemeral late summer as she smiles wanly through clouds in azure skies. I will watch sweet summer wander off into vibrant violet sunsets which will appear earlier and earlier after the autumnal equinox arrives. I bid farewell to Damsel Summer once the trees have adorned themselves in crimson, gold and persimmon. Perhaps even lovelier than summer is Lady Autumn as she paints the dusk a fuchsia pink.
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