Twilight September

In the late afternoon shadows, by the underlit leaves, near a tree bent by the weight of its own fruit…in the breeze between summer and fall: there, in the crook of a bush by a rock I spied a colored egg overlooked from last April, a memory of youth sealed like a wish, better left to itself.

About pinklightsabre

William Pearse publishes memoir, travel journals, poetry and prose, and lives in the Pacific Northwest.
This entry was posted in parenting, poetry, prose, writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

15 Responses to Twilight September

  1. It wouldn’t be autumn without a whiff of melancholia.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I’m a little speechless, but your words speak so well about the passing of seasons and memories of our days gone by. Beautiful.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Reblogged this on Karen Dowdall and commented:
    I’m a little speechless, but your words speak so well about the passing of seasons and memories of our days gone by. Beautiful.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Re-blogged, Twilight September.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Pingback: Twilight September — William Pearse | pinklightsabre – livingpoet

  6. I agree with Karen…these are beautiful words to contemplate between the seasons!

    Liked by 1 person

  7. ksbeth says:

    where past and present intersect

    Liked by 1 person

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