august's waning is october's party

Reliably.  

It happens every single year.

August's end has me dreaming of sweaters, soup and falling leaves.

Crisp autumn days and schedules.  

Pumpkins and saturated red from the maple.

Glory.

It is such a sweet savor.  

Even as I adore each waning day of summertime, 

the clear fall skies of cornflower blue 

and crisp air blowing fresh

are calling.

Apples are ripening, 

beckoning sweet.

Fresh notebooks and newly sharpened pencils

lined up like soldiers awaiting marching orders.

Corduroy and jeans.

Woolens and tweeds.

And my feet keep tapping along to the strumming of the waltz in my head.

Can you hear it?  The party?

October’s Party
by George Cooper

October gave a party;
The leaves by hundreds came—
The Chestnuts, Oaks, and Maples,
And leaves of every name.
The Sunshine spread a carpet,
And everything was grand,
Miss Weather led the dancing,
Professor Wind the band.

The Chestnuts came in yellow,
The Oaks in crimson dressed;
The lovely Misses Maple
In scarlet looked their best;
All balanced to their partners,
And gaily fluttered by;
The sight was like a rainbow
New fallen from the sky.

Then, in the rustic hollow,
At hide-and-seek they played,
The party closed at sundown,
And everybody stayed.
Professor Wind played louder;
They flew along the ground;
And then the party ended
In jolly “hands around.”

Oh, August,

your beauty is well beloved.

And fall's rushing arrival, is so dearly met as well.