I lift my eyes upon the autumn gardens and the golden lands,
All wrapped in the morning fog, when sun is rising through the clouds of September mist.
The red and golden leaves flowing on the autumn breeze, fall upon my hands.
Twirling, drifting to the grounds, with a flatter and the crisp.
September came upon our Mother Nature,
As a guest of Honor to the Season Banquet.
September has the Artist Major:
Look at the colors on the canvas blanket.
The seasons come and go by through the years upon the Earth.
They are never late from their labor.
And if you missed September’s worth,
Come back next year to watch and see, good neighbour.