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Heraldic September

"What have I to fear or hate in winter, when September brings me hope?"
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Published 9 years ago

The fiercest heat of blazing sun has finally stretched its arms

 

And yawned its way towards the stairs embraced in cooling balms

Of fresh-breathed northern winds that chase the southern cloying heat

Away from Summer's laughing face and happy, dancing feet.

 

September heralds in great joys for such a one as I;

September calls my heart to gaze upon the darkening sky.

Summer pulls itself away and Earth is brought to childbed,

The fruits of many labourers are birthed from those that wed.

 

Branches full of shining berries, juices seeping from their flesh;

Tiny creatures spin their beauty, morn displays their diamond mesh.

Sparkling drops of plump, rich dew are scattered in the hedges

As gardeners busy, rakes made ready, performing leafy dredges.

 

For leaves are turning, changing colours, the hues of aged delights;

From green so fresh and darkly velvet to wondrous, dreamy sights

Of red and gold and flaming orange, and burning yellow flame,

The branches, just before they're stripped, will never be the same.

 

The squirrels skitter back and forth, and claim their winter hoards

And chatter, natter, skirmish, hide and grab what Earth affords.

For Jack Frost is about to send his greetings of arrival,

And woodland creatures all make ready for their wintery survival.

 

The weight of ages gathers in the gloaming of the skies

As Winter knocks upon the door, as every wild goose flies

Away in this, the turning year, as days of death creep near,

And darkness threatens to engulf and bring with it deep fear.

 

Yet in that midnight of the year, when storms and cruel winds spice

The air with cold and slapping rain and sliding, deathly ice,

September leaves us warming light, a grinning pumpkin glow

To shine us through to Chistmas time, and onwards we shall go.

 

Through the darkening evening light, from copper, umber, brown,

To grey, to purple, inky black, and still we need not frown.

For bonfires burn throughout the days, a beacon for Evening Star;

And homefires in the happy hearth prevent our wandering far.

 

September heralds us a promise, that even in the night,

A candle's glowing on for us, a happy, shining light.

For me, alone, September says, though chilly winds may moan,

The dying year, though solitary, will not leave me alone.

 

For images of golden leaves, and jewelled, delicious fare

Will stay with me as I drink warm wine 'neath twinkling lights that dare

To pierce the darkness with their joy as hot brown chestnuts roast.

I'll finish that dead dying year with marshmallows I toast.

 

And in the deepest heart of Winter, when Love first came to Earth,

I'll remember each bright memory and wait for Life's new birth.

For in the dark and gloomy days, and fearful, dreadful nights,

September gone reminds me of the coming Springtime sights.

 

September, herald once of Death, but now heraldic singing,

Her voice rings rich and deep through time, sets Christmas bells a-ringing.

Her gold embrace, so rich and warm, enwraps us in her arms,

And carries us through wintertime, and keeps us from all harms.

 

September joy inside my heart, I'll never fear the dark,

And Winter's arrows, stinging fierce, will never hit their mark.

For I shall hold my head up high and hold September's hand,

And I know She will walk me through the barren, frozen land.

 

 

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