So many Septembers begin this way
The bees diving into cups of lemonade
Children arriving early to school on the first day
Until mid-week when sleep is all they want to do
Squirrels make a dash across streets.
Then stammer together in the middle with their partners
Like some polka dance gone afoul
Clouds frown grey
During frosty mornings
Toes curl under
In search of warmth from sandals
Refusing to hibernate for the year
Day drops off into night
Like falling off a cliff in a dream
Hypnotized into deep slumber
Trees ache with age
Cast off their leaves
Some with scarlet edges
Reminding us it is almost time
To pick apples
Jump in leaves six feet high
And get lost in a field of corn
Before
We must put away those sandals
And shovel our way through the day
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