Goodbye to you, least favorite month
Gear untouched in weeks
Time wasted in air conditioned spaces
And upon cold beer
Photographs grabbed in passing
With no time allowed for savor
September, the hearald of change
Brings the urgency of autumnal activity
Thirty days from today
The forest will be as a kaleidoscope
Gardens will wane and young pups will live for the first time
In the old routine of hunter and quarry
The hunter dons wool with purpose
Burrs to catch on dog and man.
So goodbye hot days
Stinging hornets and other bloodsucking fly swattage.
goodbye summer number sixty-one.