September

When did it get to be September?
Where did the summer go?
The wind’s slid out of the gentle south
As autumn begins to blow
The earliest trees are painting their leaves
In hues of russet and gold
While busy squirrels fill their cheeks
And watch the nights unfold
The air round our ears is sharp and clear
Though the sky is still duck-egg pale
It feels like the days at this end of the year
Hear the whisper of winter’s cold tale
When did it get to be September?
How are the nights so cold?
Whose is that wrinkled face in the mirror?
When did we grow old?

©️Jane Jago