In September, my friends

In September, my friends

drink deep the dregs of summer, the honey

light and backlit leaves.

Let your bones be wild

strawberries beneath the waning awning.

Let summer rise

away like dust around hooves

heading home.

Let your hands shed their tan

finger by finger

like velvet gloves after the masque.

Let these weeks like rivers

glide past as though buoyed by an inkling of oil.

Then, when frost creeps in on green grass

you may glimpse your beloved's hair

suddenly white.

In September, my friends by Monica Meneghetti is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at www.monicameneghetti.com.