September Then
The yellow light of autumn
fills my kitchen, lifts gold
from my children's hair.
They sit on the floor
carving apple faces to dry
into heads for granny dolls.
The yellow light of autumn
smells like pumpkin pie,
like cider, like dry earth,
like the scent
of crumbling leaves.
September came in
during the night, set down
by the hand of man.
This should be the day
to usher in a new year!
Indian summer is over,
the harvest is in.
We eat supper
of orange and yellow,
wait in our beds
like the last of the trees.
We are dropping down
into winter
to huddle beneath blankets,
drink something
by the fire.
Today, the first day of
something new,
the beginning of a new harvest
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