Generic

The light, 
the light is different 
come this time of year, 
gone the 
realistic glare 
of nuclear flash, 
chased by 
impressionist brush strokes, 
softened sunbeams 
filtering questions, 
uncertainty doth return, 
a relaxation 
of spirit 
between summer sweat 
and winter freeze, 
insects 
living high above us 
fill the air 
with the beat 
of maracas 
for those who choose 
to dance, 
while breezes 
that have scorched us 
bring a hint 
of the end 
of King Sun’s reign, 
squirrels hasten about, 
gather their nuts, 
bears sniff the wind, 
prepare their dens, 
leaves begin their 
peacock display 
or simply 
die and fall, 
all to the waltz beat 
of September’s 
bittersweet song.

September Song