Trees weigh words and light,
and colors drown in the river.
Summer has lost its memory
but gardens remember Spring.

How strange! It seems to me
I am one thousand years old
and I feel like playing again
hide-and-seek with Fall.

I love those ember days
in the breath of the sun.
My soul was born in September:
today is forever.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Illustration: Bridge at Montfoucault (Camille Pissaro, 1874)

It’s not springtime
yet Spring is in the air.

Birds seem not to care
and roses confuse
dreams with reality.

But shadows lengthen
and the robin’s heart
beats faster and faster.

September farewell.
There so little time left.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Un air de printemps
flotte sur le jardin.

L’oiseau semble indifférent
et la rose prend
ses rêves pour la réalité.

Mais les ombres s’allongent
et le cœur du rouge gorge
bat la chamade.

Adieu Septembre.
Il reste si peu de temps.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Ombre© 2018– F.G.M.

Today I saw
tall trees in the forest
standing proudly
like kings of kingdoms

unseen.

Today I heard children
still unaware of Time
celebrating a birthday
and I thought about

Life and Death.

Today I kept watching
a hungry chickadee,
I dreamed of the Sea,
I breathed the Light of September,

and that just made my day.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Forêt en Septembre © 2017– F.G.M.

Life has given us a Lute
with twelve thin strings of Hope.

When September begins
Love is so very near,
and trees in golden light
make it easy to sing

for those who have a Dream
and those who do not have any.

September has just begun,
the Light is warm and clear,
and so I take my lute
and sing my little Love song

for those who have a Dream
and those who do not have any.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

illustration:  September Afternoon (Joseph DeCamp, c1895)

if the year were
an ocean
if the ocean were
a tear of God
a drop of eternity
September
would be
an island of light
rimmed with unending beaches
where pure amber
in the sunset
would sparkle
like
nowhere
else

© Frédéric Georges Martin