First September Blog


First September Blog.


August, end of summer.
Butterflies are listless,
Fluttering here and there,
Feeding almost done.
Time to cut the buddlea,
No longer needed.
Where do butterlies
Spend winter?
Or do they die?
Their eggs surviving
In some dark corner,
Awaiting spring,
Birthing caterpillars,
To munch fresh green leaves,
In turn, to chrysalis,
To bloom again.

Summer hangs on,
But there and here,
Clouds droop,
Coolness seeps in.
Tomorrow, September
Creeps upon us.
Slowly, the year
Begins to die,
Pulls summer bounty
Around it,
Like a shawl,
Nudges nut gatherers
To take heed.
Whispers in the
Seed eaters ears,
As much as you can,
Whilst you can,
For I am the harbinger,
I tell the trees
Draw nutrients
From their leaves
To sustain through
Winter’s perils.
The Waning year
Is dying and winter approaches.

Copywrite Evelyn J. Steward. August, 2916.

I begin this blog on a dour note…

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