On Sunday night September
came walking
dressed in night
with rubber wellies on her aching feet,
she strode
through streets to shake
the leaves from boughs
and check if yet
it’s time for leaves to blush;
her hands were wild with rain
her hair the hay we left to rot.
But when morning broke,
with sun to warn her feet
and dry her tears,
September smiled,
and said that summer still
will wait a while before she leaves.
Zen Tree by Beverly Dryer
Today Mish hosts dVerse Poetics with the artworks of Beverly Dryer, who you also keeps a blog, and has her artwork on etsy and other places.
I can so feel that we are at the pivotal moment when summer slowly gives place to autumn. Darkness come earlier and earlier and when it rains it falls in other ways. Still when sun is up it still feels like summer.
—-
September 3, 2019
Björn Rudbergs writings 
Love the turn in this towards
“September smiled, and said that summer still will wait a while before she leaves.”
September is such a reckless lady always changing her mind…
Seemingly, Björn!
I love your personification of September, Björn! You’ve encapsulated the essence of September: the nights already drawing in, the need for wellies, the blushing leaves and the rain. Thank you for the reminder that September still has sunshine (my kind of gentle sunshine) and smiles, especially once the kids are back at school!
Great choice of picture for your words – and vice versa! I love this representation of September, one of the corners of the year – I recognise her, with her lengthening nights and her warm sunshine. Let’s hold on a little longer…
I love your personification of September! I know her well except around these parts, she still hangs on to the trees, swinging from the branches like a wild woman. Not until mid-October will she put on her wellies and plaid jacket. I look forward to her arrival.
How endearing. I feel such tenderness in this one, a genuine affection for the seasons.
Nice description: ” time for leaves to blush”
Lady September came walkin’ this week and leaves have started to fall, however summer heat is hanging on just as you’ve described. Well said.
Wonderfully gentle, yet coy and playful; excellent September Song. In September her, we get Indian Summer, with temps in the perfect 70’s.
So unpredictable she is! I really enjoyed the personification and had to chuckle about her “rubber wellies”.
September truly is reckless. I like that, Bjorn. Lovely poem!
I love this time – the coolness in the air but the sun is still up, to warm and dry one’s tears. Summer can stay awhile. Really enjoyed this character with:
her hands were wild with rain
her hair the hay we left to rot.
a seductive dance of seasons, lovely!
I do hope summer stays awhile, I feel it slipping away as fall tip toes in barely noticeable.
We call it Indian Summer when the sun comes back and warms up the Fall one last time!
Beautifully done as always. A real wordfest.
Beautiful imagery!
A promise for summer to stay awhile. Love the narrative.
I really like this personification of September–business-like in her wellies–but there’s a gentle, playful tone, too.
I’m up early in the morning, so I’ve noticed for a while that the dawn comes later, but it’s still summery here in NJ.
That thought of sadness that it will end, but deliciously, not just yet, one more moment.
This is absolutely lovely! Thank you so much! Cheers, Bev
Thank you for letting us write to your art.
What a personification of this month. I do feel for her, torn between summer and fall, storms and sunny days. Loved “her hair the hay we left to rot”; it captures that end of season feel of September.
I like your personification of September and the descriptions!
I like the wordplay. September never can make up her mind. (K)
This personification of September is lovely and right on target. So far we have had no indication that she is on the horizon…it’s HOT.
Love your idea of September with her aching feet and rotting hay hair…enjoy these last days of summer!
Excellent interpretation Björn, of this piece you chose of Beverly’s art. Wonderful choice by the way!
Beautiful. I loved the line “her hands were wild with rain.”
There is a little reference there to a poem by ee cummings having that line:
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands
This is lovely. I’ve been reading many poems about Autumn, September. Lots of songs, too.