Of Spent Summer or Of Summer Spent
Happy First Day of Fall
The hour is upon usWhere bower, fen and dellAre laden with the onusOf flowering farewell
The season of Spent SummerLike an ocean of starsHangs soft upon the tremorOf autumn’s kindled bars
In thrum of shadow-dapplesIn rum-colored remainsIn sums of plums and applesAnd wild aster-fringed lanes
In diamond studded fretworkOf gossamer designWhere spider’s artful networkDazzles shrubs, gates and vines
In countless ways and wondersOf teeming crook and creaseEarth’s quiet canvas thundersWith many a masterpiece
In Cana lily taperBrandishing scarlet flaresIn leaves, like gilt-edged paperA Fine Author prepares
In 'toxicating scents ofGinger, cinnamon, clovesIn foraged storage boxesFor sweaters, scarves, hats, gloves
In zinnia pomp and splendorIn bossy blue jay shriekIn contemplative candorOf truths time cannot tweak
In hunts for garden treasureOf Yukon gold and suchIn savoring the measureOf moments meeting/meting touch
In revamped whims and wishesIn sun-glossed tassels tossedWith Jack Frost's first soft kissesAnd roses summer lost
The hour is upon usWhere the gleam in Time’s gazeStokes a sacred awarenessOf man’s flower-like days
© Janet Martin
...and what a stunning debut to the first day of fall!