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I Have Waited for September

I have waited for September
When the stars shine silver white;
When the sun with trepidation
Chases off the cold of night.
Farmers seek to reap their harvest:
All the golden grain that grows;
Man and beast shall nightly shiver
From their midriff to their toes.

I have waited for September
And the stacking of the sheaves.
See the shelling of the corn
And the turning of the leaves;
Now it’s time to dig potatoes
Growing in my humble garden,
Time to pick the bulging pumpkins
And the veggies ere they harden.

There is something in September
Giving me a strange desire:
To both cherish crimson apples
And trim trees that seem like fire.
Moonlight hanging high and huge
Over fulsome farmers’ fields.
Family members say their prayers
Thanking God to have their yields.

I have waited for September
When my final harvest’s done.
All the kindness I’ve shown others
And the victories I’ve won.
I await my final tally;
Both additions and subtractions
That Septemberize my soul
For both pain and satisfaction.

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LTC Roy E. Peterson, US Army Military Intelligence and Russian Foreign Area Officer (Retired) has published more than 6,200 poems in 88 of his 112 books. He has been an Army Attaché in Moscow, Commander of INF Portal Monitoring in Votkinsk, first US Foreign Commercial Officer in Vladivostok, Russia and Regional Manager in the Russian Far East for IBM. He holds a BA, Hardin-Simmons University (Political Science); MA, University of Arizona (Political Science); MA, University of Southern California (Int. Relations) and MBA University of Phoenix. He taught at the University of Arizona, Western New Mexico University, University of Maryland, Travel University and the University of Phoenix.

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26 Responses

  1. Paul Freeman

    Four stanzas, all equally poignant and chock full of autumnal imagery, with a seamless transition to the final stanza with it’s metaphor of impending old age.

    I was wondering if you considered using contractions in the initial line (refrain?) of each stanza. As I read this poem, it felt like someone talking and contractions slipped in more naturally.

    Thanks for a read that perfectly encapsulates the sights, sounds and smells of impending autumn and winter beyond, Roy.

    Reply
    • Roy Eugene Peterson

      Thank you for the thought about contractions; however, I wanted to keep the title without one and the rest followed. I appreciate your comments and attention to the imagery.

      Reply
    • Roy Eugene Peterson

      Thank you, Jeremiah, for refreshing my memory about the Frost poem. It has been a long time since I read that one. I love your “midriff to the toes” comment.

      Reply
  3. Sally Cook

    I have always loved autumn. and see no reason to stop.
    Your graceful presentation of some of its glories leaves me in an autumnal haze. Thank you.

    Reply
    • Roy Eugene Peterson

      From the poems you have written and your comment about loving autumn, we seem to be kindred souls. Thank you for your kind comments, Sally.

      Reply
  4. Joseph S. Salemi

    This is a lovely poem of autumnal beauty. And poems on that season seem to be a standard metaphorical lead-in to thoughts of mortality. I think of Shakespeare’s sonnet on “the bare ruined choirs.”

    Reply
    • Roy Eugene Peterson

      Thank you, Dr. Salemi, for your gracious comments and mentioning Shakespeare’s sonnet.

      Reply
  5. Margaret Coats

    Roy, there’s more to this poem than immediately meets the mind’s eye. “I have waited” is one indication, and another is all the “work words”: “reap,” “shell,” “stack,” “dig,” “pick,” “trim.” September is mature vigor harvesting the rewards of earlier labor, physical and psychological and spiritual. It is not retirement and does not anticipate death. “Have waited” is present perfect tense, looking at action complete in present time but calling for additional action at the same time. The verb “await” in the last stanza is present tense. The speaker’s situation of waiting is presently being fulfilled, but is far from finished. “Additions and subtractions” have yet to make their effect on the soul. “Septemberize” is a wonderful coinage to describe not just the tallying that takes place, but recognition of it in the soul still awaiting a final tally. This recognition implies an evaluation and careful management to preserve gains and possibly increase them.

    “Moonlight hanging high and huge” seems to see a bountiful harvest, but you take a bit of a risk with “fulsome” fields. The word doesn’t mean just “full,” but “excessive,” which can be good or bad. It’s good to earn a higher return than expected, as long as this doesn’t unbalance the continuing life of the spirit. Indeed it’s very good to be encouraged about even more good fruit with more attention to the spiritual arena. But “fulsome” has also taken on the connotation of “foul,” for example in “fulsome” or “excessive and undeserved” praise. You avoid that connotation by a good choice of final words. With a current tally of both “pain and satisfaction,” you move beyond the usual earthly balance of “pain and pleasure.” “Satisfaction,” by derivation, means “doing enough,” and not venturing into excess. Seems like an excellent way to be sure of “all the golden grain that grows.”

    Reply
    • Roy Eugene Peterson

      Margaret, this poem stems from my time as a young boy working in the fields on our family farm. The “work words” you mention are all things I have done including stacking the sheaves and digging potatoes in the garden. Your recognition of the deeper meanings in this poem are welcomed comments stemming from your superb mind and beautiful soul. When I used the word “fulsome” I was thinking of the terms, “ample,” and “generous,” which I had checked as synonyms in dictionaries that indeed was more than we anticipated and gave us “hope,” “extra dividends,” and “satisfaction.” By extension, of the word “ample” I also arrived at “bountiful” and “abundant.” I used the word “fulsome” then for alliteration. I did note that it could also be used as “extravagant” and “lavish” which would take the word meaning to the less pleasing aspects. Bless you for your in-depth review and taking the time to consider the elements of the poem and communicate your thoughts.

      Reply
      • Joseph S. Salemi

        At the risk of having a cliche, you could substitute “fertile” for “fulsome.” It would keep the alliteration. Or else you might try a hyphenated coinage, like “full-ripe.”

  6. Warren Bonham

    I never got my hands dirty in the fields but this brought everything to life for me, especially now that I’m nearing my final harvest season and thinking about my final tally. This was a great read.

    Reply
    • Roy Eugene Peterson

      Thank you, Warren, for your gracious comments and understanding of the meaning.

      Reply
  7. Brian A. Yapko

    Roy, this is a wonderful meditation on the simple joys of Autumn deepened by the reflections of a philosophical soul approaching his own death with confidence and trust. I love it.

    Reply
    • Roy Eugene Peterson

      Thank you, Brian, for your precious comments. Many of the images of harvest time come from the Bible and are the background of my thinking and “philosophy.”

      Reply
  8. Roy Eugene Peterson

    A special thank you to Evan for picture selection. That closely resembles the farm scene at harvest time on my family farm when I was young.

    Reply
  9. Russel Winick

    Roy – I was surprised (not being even 1% as knowledgeable as Dr. Salemi) and delighted by your use of autumn’s beauty as a metaphorical prelude to your views of mortality. I thought you did it seamlessly and superbly.

    Reply
  10. Shamik Banerjee

    A simple poem, delicate in its delivery, taking a completely different turn by the end, instilling in us a deeper thought about life and our deeds. I can never get tired of reading this lovely little tribute to September. The rhythm enriches its reading experience. 

    Reply
  11. Susan Jarvis Bryant

    Roy, September is a favorite month of mine, and you have captured the essence of its beauty admirably with your wondrously woven words. Those crimson apples have taken me straight back my home county of Kent. I will admit to missing the flame-leafed trees at this time of year… your poem has done much to assuage my longing. Thank you very much indeed!

    Reply
  12. Roy Eugene Peterson

    Those are precious words to me, Susan, especially since they are a reflection of my youthful years on the farm that gave me nostalgia while writing it. I would love to see your county of Kent in September. I have traveled in the UK, but never in autumn.

    Reply

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