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Sunday, September 13, 2015

Sunday in September



On a quiet Sunday morning
Cattle standing lowing
In the fields; behind the fencing
Bright cool light of dawn commencing

Across the hills;across the sky
Strands of pink cotton candy fly
Like ballooning spiders casting web
Tentacles from the sun are spread

A gentle wind, rustling leaves
Dances through the tops of trees
Sparking dew lit diamonds there;
Casting emeralds through the air

Maples, fluttered by the breeze
Send forth their helicopter seeds;
Gypsy fruit that congregate
Swiftly, as if they were running late

Upon the dawn and through the air
The slightest hint of autumn there
Soon the maples will turn to embers
Burning the edges of September

What joy and peace the morning brings
Like angel harps with sunlit strings
Until the whole of nature sings
While in the distance church-bells ring

About Me

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Poet and musician Fabian G. Franklin invites you to join him on a poetic journey through the soul and nature.