It is September

Now in September, though the early chill
reminds us that the summer draws to close,
The countryside is green. The days warm still.
While swallows gather to depart, the rose
flowers on as brightly, and the trees,
whose green and leafy branches shade us now,
begin to show first hints of gold. Some leaves
already scatter on the ground below.
Though autumn with its gilded purity
has still to come and some days will be fine,
one feels that summer's passed maturity
to age. Another year is in decline.
And so, whatever we might say or how,
We are on the threshold of next winter now.

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