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September Light Seasons have their hues: ours is sun-steeped translucence lit from within till it brims over.
Females dun beside their bolder mates, gold- finch cross the sky in graceful loops of liquid
flight and song, sway on green fronds that bow under light weight to the doctrine of signatures.
River carp leap and fall, rippling circles the stream. Like calls to like through bright air before sunset.
Goldenrod scimitars flash solid arabesques of late summer, late afternoon, late in our lives for such
luminous entrance.
*An early version is published in goddesspages.co.uk
Also from Penn Kemp: An Ounce of Essential
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