September Magic

Stay until the first star appears
and follow home the blue hour:
September magic,
seeping into your bones,
up from the ground;
flowing out of your fingertips,
taking flight with the bats

and the reeds sing of
summer returning in its softer shape
muted, transmuted, brilliant in
apple-crisp mornings, gold and red
between the wisened green
and the deepened sky

and there is movement
and something more
alive

looking for
a wider place.