The sweetness of September’s like
A fat, full-ripened berry
As it bursts upon your tongue.
The softness of September’s like
A shimmering, silken gossamer
That drifts across your skin.
The stillness of September’s like
A green-shade forest slumber
After noon’s harsh heat and light.
The sadness of September’s like
A watercolour evening sky
Erased by falling night.
By Anne Woodcock
Anne is married to Pete Woodcock and works as an Editor for The Good Book company.
Anne has written a poem for every month of the year in 2019 which you can read on the Cornerstone blog.