It’s going on noon on the first day of September
when I decide to climb the western slope of the south hill.
It smells of advancing autumn and the summer’s sea of ferns
is but froth on the shore after the waves have spent their force
and washed away. Here and there, a fallen leaf dots the ground.
And the fallen branches, gifts from the winds, are plentiful
and easy to see, now that the foliage has melted into the soil.
I will be roaming here again soon, gathering them to serve
as fuel for my winter fires. But today I am here just to see
what there is to see as the world ushers in September.