POEM: September

When September comes,
he sings every chance he gets.
It’s because of the flowers
that enliven the roads,
and the leaning sunlight,
and the school doors standing open,
and the way winds
encircle him as he sits
in the park. He sings
as the crickets sing beside him
in the grass, and as the leaves sing
and celebrate and start
to loosen their bonds above him.