SEPTEMBER

It's September and everything is either urgent

Or it's already done and gone

It can happen overnight.

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The leaves burn bright as blown embers

Or they’re grey ghosts piled up on the ground.

The berries sweeten your daydreams

Or you’re shrugging at a pile of bear shit full of seeds.

-

The bough is bending

Or the fruit has dropped.

The loons are wailing

Or the pond’s gone still.

The farmers frenzy

Or the frost has come.

The hunter is restless

Or the deer is down.

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Did you kiss your snowbird mother

Or did you miss your chance till June?

Pick your beans by the bucketful

Until the basil goes black

And watch those ripening grapes like a Waxwing.