Cool air, September sky.
My vision bordered by trees,
Dying for the winter-
God's silent fireworks,
Brilliant reds, oranges, yellows.
There is the threat of frost in the air,
A biting chill which seeps into my clothes.
The smell of a woodstove is in the air,
Invigorating.
It is as much a part of the September sky
As the colors on the wind.
There is a stillness in the air,
Punctuated by the cries of a few lonely birds.
I look to the sky,
Clear blue, like your eyes.
I feel lost, lonely-
I am in this dream,
But you are not.
I am leaving, I know,
Leaving behind a connection of the heart
That I once was unaware of.
I am alone, September Sky.