2152

winged thoughts rise skyward -
your kind winds and warming sun
dear sweet September
© gillena cox 2017


Dear Sweet September, Be kind to us all


Sunday Smiles




O flower garment
When I take it off
Various strings coil round me
© Sugita Hisajo (1890-1946)



Sundays are always special here at Lunch Break. Today is #50 in the series The Sunday Standard when 5-7-5 haiku is featured. Here's wishing you a happy Sunday email me post a COMMENT or leave a link to your blog at the linky below





Blog hopping today at

Poetry Pantry #369

AND


Recuerda Mi Corazon - kindness

AND

Enjoy The Music



Dont Leave Before You See Again
3 September 2015
Sunday Savvy 50
Sunday Lime 50

1289

i'll paint
these fading days of September
yellow

heat sieves
through raindrops

October yellows
Divali and
early Christmas lights
--gillena cox

Linking today to Monday Mellow Yellows




86 DAYS TO CHRISTMAS

1020

September ends with
morning clouds tinted blue
Sunday savvy
--gillena cox


September begins on the same day of the week as December every year, because there are 91 days separating September and December, which is a multiple of seven (the number of days in the week). No other month ends on the same day of the week as September in any year.


Sunday Smiles

Today is #43 in the series Sunday Savvy i invite you to share a Sunday something of yours email me or post a COMMENT

revisit Sunday Savvy 42

September ends
accepting the fall
--Lorraine, CA

We'll miss September
October has pushed her away
Autumn's leaves will fall
-- Jim, US


tag 1 Shadow Shot Sunday; 30 September 2012
tag 2 today's prompt at OSI ' absent'
tag 3 Random Noodling Sunday 30 September 2012

Harvest Moon

Full Corn Moon – September This full moon’s name is attributed to Native Americans because it marked when corn was supposed to be harvested. Most often, the September full moon is actually the Harvest Moon.

Condolences

Golden Wattle: internet image

September in Australia
GRAY Winter hath gone, like a wearisome guest,
And, behold, for repayment,
September comes in with the wind of the West
And the Spring in her raiment!
The ways of the frost have been filled of the flowers,
While the forest discovers
Wild wings, with the halo of hyaline hours,
And a music of lovers.

September, the maid with the swift silver feet!
She glides, and she graces
The valleys of coolness, the slopes of the heat,
With her blossomy traces;
Sweet month, with a mouth that is made of a rose,
She lightens and lingers
In spots where the harp of the evening glows,
Attuned by her fingers.

The stream from its home in the hollow hill slips
In a darling old fashion;
And the day goeth down with a song on its lips
Whose key-note is passion;
Far out in the fierce, bitter front of the sea
I stand, and remember
Dead things that were brothers and sisters of thee,
Resplendent September.

The West, when it blows at the fall of the noon
And beats on the beaches,
So filled with a tender and tremulous tune
That touches and teaches;
The stories of Youth, of the burden of Time,
And the death of Devotion,
Come back with the wind, and are themes of the rhyme
In the waves of the ocean.

We, having a secret to others unknown,
In the cool mountain-mosses,
May whisper together, September, alone
Of our loves and our losses.
One word for her beauty, and one for the place
She gave to the hours;
And then we may kiss her, and suffer her face
To sleep with the flowers.
High places that knew of the gold and the white
On the forehead of Morning
Now darken and quake, and the steps of the Night
Are heavy with warning!
Her voice in the distance is lofty and loud
Through its echoing gorges;
She hath hidden her eyes in a mantle of cloud,
And her feet in the surges!

On the tops of the hills, on the turreted cones—
Chief temples of thunder—
The gale, like a ghost, in the middle watch moans,
Gliding over and under.
The sea, flying white through the rack and the rain,
Leapeth wild at the forelands;
And the plover, whose cry is like passion with pain,
Complains in the moorlands.

Oh, season of changes—of shadow and shine—
September the splendid!
My song hath no music to mingle with thine,
And its burden is ended;
But thou, being born of the winds and the sun,
By mountain, by river,
May lighten and listen, and loiter and run,
With thy voices forever.
-- September in Australia; by Henry Clarence Kendall (1841–82)


Condolences to the family and friends of Haiku poet of Australia - Janice M. Bostok(1942 -2011)who died peacefully in the Murwillumbah Hospital on Sunday afternoon, September 4

early spring mist —
in the valley the clatter
of milking pails
--Janice Bostok

First September Moon

Its Sunny

i have as a child, in primary school, repeated this little poem so often; today, September first, while flipping my calendars, it came to me again; so i deceided to google and there it was

June too soon.
July stand by.
August look out you must.
September remember.
October all over.

The poem was published in “Weather Lore” by R. Inwards in 1898. read more here

Morning walk

morning glory from...


roadside blossoms wave
good morning September
--gillena cox

September Note from...
September begins on the same day of the week as December every year, because there are 91 days separating September and December, which is a multiple of seven the number of days in the week

September Shedding

Walking