Winter sleeps both cold and deep,
while spring is a madcap scramble,
summer sings and jogs along,
but fall is a definite amble,
dropping hints of cooler times
with every leaf and bramble

That first, frosty, autumn morn
I ventured out into the woods.

It was crisp and cold,
My breath hung momentarily in the air.

The trees had shed their leaves In the windy days
And were now carpeting the forest floor.

My first step onto the russet and gold carpet
Crunched so satisfyingly and each step the same.

I set off at a brisk pace,
Leaves crackling and rustling underfoot; so pleasing to the ear.

I continued my walk across this golden carpet
Accompanied by the leaves’ susurration

And remembrances of childhood,
Playing amongst the fallen leaves.

You are my late September,  
When spring has long been forgotten  
With its newness, lush green and raindrops.  
The rambunctious giddy splendor of sweaty palms  
And arterial palpitations.  

You are not summer, hot and dripping,  
Air thick, smothering with inescapable heat,  
Panting breaths and desperate lips.  
Perhaps once or twice as we revolved around each other,  
If night airs could tell tales.  

You are not winter,  
Though we have shared Decembers.  
There is no place for you in my snow tipped trellises.  
No coordinate in my circumference that would hold you in ice,  
Frozen and forgotten under rippled white blankets,  
Though perhaps, under wrinkled white sheets.  

You are not fall,  
When autumn turns the ground dirt and dull.  
Trees shedding their raiments  
And reaching naked for the sky.  
Surrendering to the inevitability of winter’s approach,  
Drawing sap down to their rootwork,  
Waiting for another spring  

You are my late September,  
The earth still warm between my toes  
With the remembrance of summer suns.  
More vibrant than spring, and wiser than summer.  
Leaves full of tree-song  
Brilliant gold and fire,  
Blood orange and melancholy yellows,  
Blazing in defiant glory.

A beautiful day in September,
The air is breathing yellow,
Painting the leaves golden
with each exhale.
Hues of autumn are unfolding
Warmth and tenderness intertwine,
With sunlight spreading on tree branches.
There's merry laughter in the hamlets,
Their laughter merges
with the sunshine laughing.
It is a reflection of
September's joy.
Somewhere the song of summer is ending,
But what a gift it is to be able to live
In September's warmth,
it protects me
From all sadness.

Fall
Poem by me
Face so cold
Best to stay inside for the moment
Beath Deeply
Realizeing the days are longer
The nights are shorter
Watch as it rains
Finally a reason for all this waiting with every full touch and red blood boiling
Reality seeking in
That fall is soon over

delicate petals unfold
and swallows swoop and glide
in a dance of new beginnings
as the earth breathes
a gasp of renewal
and green stretches
from beneath the cold grey

each bud
is a promise
each raindrop
a melody
and the sun
wraps its arms
around the world
lifting shadows
with gentle warmth

as hope blooms
in every corner
i grow with the flowers
learning to bloom
in the season of becoming
as spring whispers
softly through the trees