People often talk about favourite seasons or months. Poets often write about the seasons and that isn't surprising as in the world UK citizens are renowned for talking about the weather. Who am I to break a well-established trend?
To September
The queen of months that rules the
year,
slowing progress and protecting
life,
as nature engages a cooler period,
from cold that strikes like a
knife.
Misty mornings and balmy days,
as the sun retreats below halfway,
people unsure over what to wear,
plants and animals know how to sway.
Readying the country for winter’s
rest,
first a busy month of fruitfulness,
life delivering bountiful largesse,
but she dies dissipating all
stress.
And so the time of harvest comes,
nature's gently falling asleep,
dozing to restore energy levels,
girding her loins her promises to
keep.
©David L Atkinson September 2024
Other
September
On
the other hand September’s not cool,
all
the bairns must gan back to school,
what’s
worse the weather has got better,
could
August have been any wetter?
In
the garden there is a surge of growth,
dad’s
vegetables and weeds both,
takes
hours to wash hands of soil,
after
back breaking hours of toil.
The
next thing we’ll have to do is harvest,
fruit
and veg at their very shiny best,
thorns
and prickles ripping at skin,
a
punnet to put juicy blackberries in.
In
thirty days it’ll all be ower,
for
another year not to be seen,
Christmas
is coming and that’ll be canny,
but first a pumpkin for Halloween.
©David L Atkinson September 2024
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