September comes.
Like a thin, blue raft
on an orange sea.
Drifting silently...
It comes to rest upon my doorstep.
Fresh.
New.
Soft with smells of spice and earth
and rich with songs of autumn.
I lay beside him awhile.
Listen to his steady breathing.
The ins and outs as he inhales and exhales
and smiles with unknown promises.
I love him already.
And he loves me.
And birds never sounded sweeter...
The sky was never quite
this strange,
(but beautiful),
iridescent blue.
My body has never ached
and trembled this way-
at the thought of a new season.
As September anchors himself
to the beach of my heart,
I swim out to him,
embrace him-
feel completely -
the brief joy he brings me.
I indulge in his warm gifts...
his cool night kisses...
the mellow colors of copper and cantaloupe
and lemon meringue.
We will fuse into one
and run the fallow fields...
bathe in crimson leaves...
and swallow the last of summer
in huge, bittersweet gulps.
Then, when September must go,
I will board his raft and
drift off into a cold, hard sea...
Until I once again find green shores
and sunlit days
as warm
as honey.
