1267. The air is different today; the wind sings with a new tone sighing of changes coming as barbarous summer dies… ~Edited and adapted line by Rhawk

“I grow old, I grow old,”
the garden says.
It’s nearly October.
~Robert Finch

Screen Shot 2016-09-30 at 8.32.29 PM.png

The gentian’s bluest fringes
Are curling in the sun;
In dusty pods the milkweed
Its hidden silk has spun.

The sedges flaunt their harvest,
In every meadow nook;
And asters by the brook-side
Make asters in the brook,

From dewy lanes at morning
The grapes’ sweet odors rise;
At noon the roads all flutter
With yellow butterflies.

By all these lovely tokens
September days were here…
~Adapted part of a poem
by Helen Hunt Jackson

All things must come to an end and I can’t say I’m sorry to see summer finally go! We’ve had some lovely cool mornings of late and warm, honeyed afternoons, not hot but warm, and that is such a relief! I pray that as we welcome October tomorrow, this is the way we’ll continue be blessed in the coming days. And I pray also that my split, milkweed seed pods will attract a migrating monarch butterfly or two, that is if there are any of them left as they have been and are endanger of extinction due to merciless, habitat destruction.

Teach me, Lord, the way of your decrees, that I may follow it to the end. ~ Psalm 119:33 ✝

13 thoughts on “1267. The air is different today; the wind sings with a new tone sighing of changes coming as barbarous summer dies… ~Edited and adapted line by Rhawk

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