“Why does it always rain in September?” you ask me.
I breathe in the chilly breeze
As I walk over tree roots.
I listen to the crunchy leaves
Below my heavy boots.
I drink in the hazy sun
Spilling amber rays onto the earth.
I watch as time becomes undone
Waiting for Spring and its rebirth.
Turning to you, I answer, “Maybe September always rains for you, because you feel the end more than the rest of us do.”
© 2020 Jade M. Wong