Tuesday, September 01, 2009

Misty morning

The first day of September
Brings a promise of fall
A promise of crisp mornings.

It is a glimpse of quilt

Of woolen shirts,
flannel and sweater

The first day of September whispers
Promises of orange, yellow and red leaves
Decorating the trees, glorious maples, stately oaks, sassy burning bush.

Fall is lurking,
Hiding in the mornings
Crawling around like a night beast
Seeking to devour summer.

You can see it in the mist
That gathers round the houses
Lingers longer each day
As sunrise sleeps in just a little longer.

Fall is glorious, a cool and calculating lover.

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