September brings a change in the light.
There’s a thinning at the edges,
as the sky begins
to pack away the summer.
Mornings cool their breath,
and you feel the first hint
of the year tilting.

The fields lose their bravado,
with gold softening into something else.
Blackberries darken in the hedges,
sweet for a week,
then gone before you’ve had your fill.
Even the trees seem to hesitate,
green holding on
out of sheer stubbornness.

By evening, the air smells different;
damp earth, cut grass,
and the faintest whisper of cold
waiting its turn.
You walk home faster now,
not because it’s dark,
but because the dark
is beginning to arrive early again.