Poetry: September Midnight

What is more beautiful and comforting than a fall harvest?  

One of my favorites times of the year is Autumn.  It is that magic season when the sun can be shinning as bright as can be, yet the cold snap of air keeps you in a wonderful, comfortable state.  Days such as these are perfect for heading outside to enjoy in one of nature’s last hurrahs before winter claims all.  Brown may be the color on the ground, but it has birthed a bounty of colorful harvests that adorns markets, fields, and front porches.

But when the warm sun hides away, and the large, harvest moon emerges, the landscape changes to a silvery tone of self-preservation.  Nature, both flora and fauna, are readying themselves for the impending frost and a long winter’s nap.

In honor of this enchanting time, I offer this poem:

September Midnight

September Midnight by Sara Teasdale (1914)


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