Still September, 2025

I walk in the stillness of late September.

Summer clings on valiantly, but the Equinox has already spoken and opened the door to Autumn.

Rosehips, hawthorn and elder berries still sing their presence in shades of scarlet and claret, while purple sloes entice the unwary, and the Devil has not yet found every blackberry to spit upon.

The trees are loathe to whisper that chilly, windy, darkening word: October. And so they prepare to brighten the coming days with leaves of fire and canopies of sunlight. A last joyful flourish before Winter’s rest.

But it is still September. Hold on.

Hold on to the acorn cups and the burnished conkers. Hold on to the last of the apples, the quinces and pears. Hold on to freshly ploughed earth and hardy crops ready to overwinter. Hold on to those last few weeks of evening light and warmth.

For change is coming. Darkness is coming. Cold is coming. Rest is coming.

But not yet.

For now, it is still September.

(copyright Amanda Marks, 2025)

September turned out to be a very busy month for me so I hope you enjoy this poem instead of the usual type of post. Back to normal in October!