September Poems (2023)

Hear, See, Feel

(take a deep breath), and

hear

the crickets. cicadas buzz a
white noise like a blanket over the stalks of grass.
they are trying to reach the crescent moon.
he lightly suspends in the cobalt blue
as a crystal glass of sparkling white wine.

listen to the soft crunch
of grass beneath your feet.

see

the skyline. it runs a deep orange.
the sunset is foreshadowing october.
it's like the dregs from the day old honey-lemon tea
mom had brewed for me when I had a sore throat.
I don't like tea, so she drizzled in
more honey.

drink in the red, amber, white lights;
the silhouetted water tower.

feel

the wind. it's stretching
through the tall grass,
mumbling with the stirring stars.
summer's final breaths leave the air
pleasantly warm.

listen closer,
the wind whispers to you

(something about sprinklers
and death and
red lights at midnight
and I don't know what else).

the forefront of the night

rises

like lazarus from the dead,
blearily, mumbling about poached eggs
and toast;
he must wait for the morning to take
the yolk of the sun.