September – Jan Bailey September 4, 2011 Marjorie Mir SEPTEMBER And now the slow slide into autumn: the thinning crickets, the monarchs moving weightless among us like orange angels, the tight-lipped rose hips; the brown curl of aspen leaf, the bikes tossed willy-nilly on the schoolhouse lawn. Even the shadows slide, like blue cloaks about the apple trees. Now the mornings deepen; the meadow glints of scraggle weed and thorn and a russet splatter of barberry sweeps in among the spruce. September, like the hem of a dress moving easy through the grass, and we running alongside, tune our engines, whip- whine our saws, rattle the storm windows from the cellar, backhoe our wells, wrap our buoys in their day-glow dresses. We, running alongside, bent on keeping pace, our eyes focused on the road ahead, our ears thrumming. Jan Bailey Reprinted from Paper Clothes, Emrys Press, 1995.