The Spirit Poem by Edmund V. Strolis

September's cool nights and warm days tease and court our sentiments.
In September dusk, magic beckons us to taste her autumn fruit yet still the warm afternoon holds us faithful to the high summer's waning song.
Autumn in September is subtle and everywhere, calling us forward. But forward toward what? What misty memories await us just around the bend?

How inviting is the warm lazy walk this time of year. Summer's loose embrace still warms your shoulders and skies so blue seem to showcase a bold, brilliant and infinite sun.
Summer's warmth still remains yet everything in nature in a succession of hues hints that autumn is settling in like a magic mist upon a valley changing everything with its touch.

I used to find it melancholy, but with age we hope comes wisdom. Are we wise enough to know that the high spirits of the summer dance need not give way to a slower waltz when Indian summer presents herself to us. True the season sets the stage in light, in shadow, in color and would have you sleepy with surrender but we control the music and so I say let it play!