Bring it on, September!
This time, I'm not afraid.
As summer leaves,
My mind changes color.

I'll take a mushroom feast
As summer's farewell gift.
My soul will settle
In autumn's golden hush.

And when winter comes,
I'll meet the cold with fire.
Attentive readers will recognize
The classic woodear-soup.

My writer's heart may ask
For Caledonia once again.
But for the first time
It might sing of winter, too.