September Morning
Unexpected first frost —
the lightest glaze
across the field,
a fine line drawn down the ruckled trunk
of the old cottonwood,
a beard that was not there yesterday.
Amid bursts of fire and purple
summer’s last revel splayed
in final fevered abandon,
sumac,
like the reddened lips of a teenage girl
quivers with anticipation.
I see an icy arc, fragile and quick,
in a color not used
these five months.
It drifts like Egyptian gauze
across the pale gold grasses
along the ditches.
Fuchsia, cosmos bend their heads
and poplars drop golden tributes
one by one by one
onto the brief, shining carpet.
Lorrie Wolfe is an author, award-winning editor, and community organizer. She believes in the power of words to unite and move people. Read more.
“September Morning” was previously published in Progenitor~50, Arts & Literary Journal.