September's Whispered Sky

September’s Whispered Sky

By Cynthia Saarie

The morning wore a sweater first,

Though August swore she’d stay.

A silver mist crept through the fields

And stole the heat away.

The maple tried a splash of gold,

A secret here and there.

While crickets stitched the evening shut

With needles made of air.

The school bus sighed around the bend,

Its brakes a gentle squeal.

And lunchboxes and sharpened hopes

Began another wheel.

The gardens bowed beneath their fruit,

Tomatoes blushed with pride.

Sunflowers nodded to the fence,

Their summer nearly dried.

A goose cried out across the sky,

The answer floated back.

A sound as old as changing leaves

Along their southern “V” track.

Then sunset poured its amber paint

On porch and field and lane.

As September softly whispered,

“Nothing stays the same.”

Yet every year we hear that voice,

As summer says goodbye.

While autumn takes its first small step

Beneath September’s sky.