I’m a sucker for sumac

As it blushes shyly

In its early September clothing

 

Woven in greenery

Fighting for a last gasp of summer

Like the children hefting gargantuan yet fresh backpacks

And crisp uniforms, yet unstained

Awkwardly ascending the bus steps

For the first time

Or maybe,

For interminable years.

 

The red leaves bleed forth

Like my aching heart

For the sick and suffering

As it also

Rejoices

For the glorious crimson of sumac

In September.

 

I love how the soundtrack of summer

Gives way to

The voice of cicadas

Through the waft of dill

Through the flickering sunlight at new angles

And the ruby sumac

Amid it all

Calling my attention

And thrusting me back

To my youth.

 

Oh, my sweet September sumac…