a poem for your September Saturday

 

AUTUMN

 

There is a touch of sadness in the air this fall,

Such as recurs to fellows of melancholy:

Memory of its passage out of time

Follows the year's progression, 

Ash that settles a twister of flame

On mountaintops.

Autumn is quick to remember

And passes like a sunbeam in the wave.

                                                        -- Norman Macleod 

Late August in Michigan is cool breezes, strangely quiet beaches, dazzling goldenrod, and swollen milkweed seed pods, almost ready but not quite.  It was a different vacation for us this year, leaving one of our dear ones behind.  At home, the milkweed never did attract monarchs, but we've got a bazillion seeds that puff and float into the clear sky toward the brilliant September sun.  It's my Miss Rumphius moment.

I've been in a poetry mood lately (thank you, Gretchen Joanna), trying to find one that can capture this September's mood.  The poem above comes closest, touching the gnawing ache that underlies all the beauty and joy of this particular September.