September

Every fall my mom used to quote the first few lines of this poem by Helen Hunt Jackson.  And every fall the words come back to me as September unrolls her beauties around us.

September

The golden-rod is yellow;

The corn is turning brown;

The trees in apple orchards

With fruit are bending down.

 

The gentian's bluest fringes

Are curling in the sun;

In dusty pods the milkweed

Its hidden silk has spun.

 

The sedges flaunt their harvest,

In every meadow nook;

And asters by the brook-side

Make asters in the brook.

 

From dewy lanes at morning

The grapes' sweet odors rise;

At noon the roads all flutter

With yellow butterflies.

 

By all these lovely tokens

September days are here,

With summer's best of weather,

And autumn's best of cheer.

The goldenrod is yellow

The corn is turning brown

The trees in apple orchards with fruit are bending down

In dusty pods the milkweed its hidden silk has spun

And asters...

asters....

And more asters...not by the brookside but making a river of blossoms themselves.

I notice that in many poems about autumn there is a line about the fringed gentian.  We don't have any of that growing around here so that's something I'll be looking for.  We do have sedges in shady spots and there's a wild grape growing on the barn and near the tulip tree.  Now if only they would bear fruit with its "sweet odors" for us!