September 2022
Early September
11/09/22 16:32
Early September
A suspended jewel,
the morning star shines in the dark blue sky,
suspended as time is in early September,
still summer
despite the longer shadows and shorter days,
despite the flowers of gold and purple
strewn across the fields.
See – on the bush with fattening rose hips
there are new blossoms;
robins still greet the day with carols
and bees inhabit hot afternoons.
A fresh, soft morning – wasn’t this our spring?
And the purple dusk we linger in
while waves play about the shore -
wasn’t this our youth?
In this suspended time we hear echoes
from snow melting into rivers,
from the new green growth of spring,
from the high heat of summer’s prime,
all now come to us, fruit earned, warm and sweet.
In this pause we gather memories,
as grain is gathered into the barn;
we accept the sudden sweep
of penitential rains
for intentions gone awry;
we consolidate our strengths,
as energy concentrates in seeds.
For the sun sits lower every morn.
Soon winds will shift and sharpen,
will move us forward
into a new journey
for which this will have been our preparation.
But now, we reside in the moment,
in the clear warm light of early September.
Like hummingbirds at late summer’s flowers,
we feed on the nectar of these days.
© Karen Howland 2001 / 2022
A suspended jewel,
the morning star shines in the dark blue sky,
suspended as time is in early September,
still summer
despite the longer shadows and shorter days,
despite the flowers of gold and purple
strewn across the fields.
See – on the bush with fattening rose hips
there are new blossoms;
robins still greet the day with carols
and bees inhabit hot afternoons.
A fresh, soft morning – wasn’t this our spring?
And the purple dusk we linger in
while waves play about the shore -
wasn’t this our youth?
In this suspended time we hear echoes
from snow melting into rivers,
from the new green growth of spring,
from the high heat of summer’s prime,
all now come to us, fruit earned, warm and sweet.
In this pause we gather memories,
as grain is gathered into the barn;
we accept the sudden sweep
of penitential rains
for intentions gone awry;
we consolidate our strengths,
as energy concentrates in seeds.
For the sun sits lower every morn.
Soon winds will shift and sharpen,
will move us forward
into a new journey
for which this will have been our preparation.
But now, we reside in the moment,
in the clear warm light of early September.
Like hummingbirds at late summer’s flowers,
we feed on the nectar of these days.
© Karen Howland 2001 / 2022