September sits upon the gates,
holding hostage summer’s still, sultry shadow
under arms of evergreens, and lazy old dogs
who have forgotten how to bark at strangers

She waits with wayward affection outside our fences,
puffing little whispers through knot holes
and stirring the hues of dreamy deciduous,
awakening the brilliance of autumn’s brush

And so ….

September winks at me,
As I sit beneath umbrella’s shade.
I hear her impatient rustle rush up against the window pane
and watch her toe-tapping in little gusts across the dust.
She teases with the sweet scent of rain
old dog and I, languishing in lazy inhalations,
as we keep company in weary expectation.

Leaving only the thought of her cool fingertip
pressed against my lips,
she perches once again on the season’s threshold
and recites her calendar, in voice welcomed by me.

“September!” I call. “Let summer slip between
your days. Come kiss me with wilted rose petals.
Love me ‘neath a blanket of yellowing leaves.”

jeanne rené 08.07