September

You pick an apple off the tree.

It's green with rosy cheeks.

Take a bite

and some juice runs down your chin.

You grin

and lick it off.

 

The nights are drawing in.

Summer's gone

and the leaves are starting to turn

rusty.

We went blackberry picking

and got purple hands-

like zombie blood you said-

but it tasted good.

 

Days full of grey

and rain,

but when the sun comes out

it's like an unexpected gift.

The smell of wood smoke in the air

and digging out old jumpers.

 

September is here.