The late afternoon sun
Whose heat dusk
Would soon to absorb
Sifted through the window
Exposing particles of dust
Lightly strewn
On the glistening cement floor
Of the passageway
It must have been September

Daisied grass beneath my feet
Ladybird crawling
Along my fingertip
A fleet of autumnal birds
On the wing
Above me in their hundreds
Their remedying cadence
Humming and resonating
In my head
It must have been September

Swathed in the air of content
And absence of dissonance
Silently without warning
The light of september
Faded with the light of day
To bore the fathomless
The eruption of chaos
When my coin flipped
As I slept
Happiness or sadness
Out of my hands.