September

It is in the month of September The dusk falling lightly across The horizon creating a halo; Suddenly it feels like you are There and you are not there; The flat wind touches your face, When you are watching the Magnificent orange glow of west; The birds move back and forth Like leaves fallen from branches And lifted by the sky; You can only imagine It may be cold or hot or may Be both at the same time; And you can't help whistling A song watching the evening star Sitting cross-legged in a deep musing.