884. “I grow old, I grow old,” the garden says. It is nearly October. ~Excerpt from Robert Finch

For summer here, bear in mind,
is a loitering gossip, that only begins to talk
of leaving when September rises to go.
~George Washington Cable

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the air is different today
and the wind sings
with a new tone
sighing of changes coming…
~Rhawk

When September rises to go here, it is then that the amazing spider lily sits upon her scarlet throne. And when bejeweled in water beads from the sprinkler, her exotic, otherworldly charms grace the garden with a magical sort of sparkle and a melody that indeed seem to sigh along with the wind about coming changes.

…the wind blows over it and it is gone, and its place remembers it no more. ~Psalm 103:16  ✝

7 thoughts on “884. “I grow old, I grow old,” the garden says. It is nearly October. ~Excerpt from Robert Finch

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