September is another liminal month, teetering on the precipice between summer and autumn. September also includes Labor Day, Hispanic Heritage Month, and the somber anniversary of 9/11. In her poem, “September 1918,” Amy Lowell wrote, “For I have time for nothing/But the endeavour to balance myself/Upon a broken world.” As you read these September poems, reflect on the transitions between seasons (in nature and in life), the ever-present gifts of the natural world, and the responsibility/possibility of living in harmony with our neighbors.
Enjoy this collection of September poetry!
September 1918
Amy Lowell
This afternoon was the colour of water falling through sunlight;
The trees glittered with the tumbling of leaves;
The sidewalks shone like alleys of dropped maple leaves,
And the houses ran along them laughing out of square, open windows.
Under a tree in the park,
Two little boys, lying flat on their faces,
Were carefully gathering red berries
To put in a pasteboard box.
Some day there will be no war,
Then I shall take out this afternoon
And turn it in my fingers,
And remark the sweet taste of it upon my palate,
And note the crisp variety of its flights of leaves.
To-day I can only gather it
And put it into my lunch-box,
For I have time for nothing
But the endeavour to balance myself
Upon a broken world.
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IMAGE CREDIT: Lindsey Cornett
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