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Crisp
Early September, coolness in the sun;
Nights with a hint of a chill, snuggling up under the blanket.
Summer's dying embers, sitting around it's eternal campfire;
The trees begin to wear their post Labor Day colors.
Footballs flying across gridirons, baseball gearing up for the Series;
Harvest time is here, a bounty of freshness in the kitchen.
Knowing the cold grip of winter is coming too soon;
Enjoying these days, embracing the moment with fullness.
I missed too many days this summer, “ it is too hot” I said;
Seeing that I let to many of those times slip through my fingers.
Swimming pools closing, deer becoming more restless;
Turkeys gobble, squirrels begin to prepare, nature knows this time.
Crisp… it triggers the autumn season, not the calendar;
Crisp… it lets all of creation know that the summer has passed.
Crisp… a smile creeps across my old face;
Crisp… I am in love with this season.
5Sep10
Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades
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