甜美的九月（3）

    the green prime is passing. the trees begin to proclaim the change. soon the leaves rass erm of groossamer season. das have the instinct to travel. on such gossamer strands tiny spiders have traveled into the arctic and almost to the summits of the himalayas. soon milkht. there’s still harvesting to be done, but much of it noarden, the late setables. the canning, the preserving, the freezing, the kitchen harvest in all its variety, reaches its peak.

    first frost comes in the night, a clear, scant-starred night  the corner of a hillside garden. dalistening leaf, the gleng stem, the limp, blackening garden vine.

    another night or tht. then it goes back beyond the northern hills to er, and the golden mildness of early autumn comforts the land. a faint anise smell is on the air, goldenrod scent. the mistsh, the deep-blue sky of september.

    to hts of september are invigorating. but cold-blooded insects are at the mercy of the sun and no a  strings.

    no days. mice have been harvesting and sto seeds for orging on grass and clover and fruit, lay up their harvest inbody fat under their oin to gather for migration. all summer these big  no company. noregarious, ossip and community play. the ration flocks; soon the robins athering too. nesting is completed, fledglings are on their o the trip ahead?

    by september’s end the treasure chest of autumn begins to spill over lo in the quiet afternoon, aflame in the sunset. ins to prepare for ency of grog.</p>

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