Sonnet for the September New Moon
Hail, bright crescent, dulling Autumn’s sickle,
who cuts down aster and fleabane so slow
it’s barely noticed. First fall is fickle,
for afternoon sparkles with summer’s glow,
but twilight shivers, and midnight huddles
deeper into first-stage hibernation.
Algae and hibiscus die in puddles;
Queen Anne’s lace dries in snowflake proportions.
One yarrow still blooms where ground remains damp,
white petals bannered over green clover.
Artist’s cap mushrooms from half-rotted stump;
mockingbird chatters as if for ever.
Magnolia fruits ripen to pumpkin hue,
that lure in warblers at the evening dew.