"In September:" Poem
Here we are in September.
The view from the window is bright as amber.
The air is crisp, and the sky is clear.
I enter the country road with care.
Passing by sycamore spinners and cankers,
Hay stooks and fairy tales ringers.
Here some wild sloe berries
And there are cloisters of blackberries.
Trees still have their dresses.
Forests and parks full of messes.
Acorns are for squirrels,
Pickles are in barrels.
Honey from summer meadows
Make full bellies for bears.
Bobby does not have any fear,
Jumping from daycare's stairs.
His pants have some flare,
And the cozy hat keeps neat his hair.
His proud mother was seating in the chair
And rewarded him with a Barlett pear.
Tomshinsky@2024
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