September Song

Late in the growing season the pumpkin
vine erupts in a surge of creativity,

a sinuous surf of broad leaves that billows
over the garden fence, cresting over margins 

we had thought to delineate. The vine trumpets
brash yellow blossoms, a silken-fleshed 

abundance with so little time, so little time,
and yet still September sun suffuses the upturned

green hearts of vegetation and the vine responds,
glass-blowing bulbs of potential fruit 

as if urgency itself could suffice.

Christine Gelineau’s latest book is the memoir-meditation Almanac: A Murmuration (2025, Excelsior Editions / SUNY Press). Read more.


Excerpted from ALMANAC: A MURMURATION (Excelsior Editions, 2025), where it appears unlineated as prose poetry.

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Feverfew (Tanacetum parthenium)

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I Waited for the Bee