September
September crisp nips at the furnace orange
And drizzles wet with shiver cold
With candle waxy smells that keep us warm
And light our way to this new season born
The harvest in the garden now is gone
All packed in mason jars within the shed
Now soon upon the couch to clip coupons
As earth prepares her icy brown brick bed
Behold the sweet lashed eyes of sparrows there
Flitting limb from limb in search of seed
Where oak, and elm and maple trees near bare
Dank and wet leave them for me to feed
And children in clean outfits walk to school
Eager fountains bubbling in their youth
Learning, growing, leaving rooms to cool
Where mothers think of love and need no proof
And looking through the glass out where it's grey
The smell of fresh burnt leaves remind us here
That with or without seasons a new day
Dawns in this sweet September crystal clear
poem by Sara Fielder
Added by Poetry Lover
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