September

I am alone with nature,With the soft September day;The lifting hills above me,With goldenrod are gay.Across the fields of etherFlit butterflies at play;And cones of garnet sumacGlow down the country way. The autumn dandelionBeside the roadway burns;Above the lichened bouldersQuiver the plumed ferns.The cream-white silk of the milkweedFloats from its sea-green pod;From out the mossy […]