In September I COUNT on a few things –
like the unwieldy nature of the garden.
Gangly vines, spindly stalks, faded leaves, powdery mildew.
Everything sparse yet wildly reaching.
Humidity lowers, blue sky deepens her hue,
light shines more vividly.

Enchantment comes from jewelweed seeds.
A single touch to the tips of their full pods
yields an immediate explosion
that never creases to SPARK my delight.

September seems to GLIDE
between seasons, temperatures vacillate.
No longer lush, not ready to till.
Harvest scurries have yet to start.
WHILE waiting for this to end, for that to begin
September, unkempt and understated,
gives a final burst, sowing seeds
to ensure next generations, seasons away.

Yes, I go to the jewelweed patches, giggling
Something within knows the magic beyond,
how essential these moments of sudden release.

Heather