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Here in the US, the first Monday of September is celebrated as Labor Day, a national holiday to honor the American labor movement and the men and women, past and present, that contributed and continue to contribute to this country’s workforce and prosperity. For most Americans, Labor Day weekend also represents summer’s last hurrah. Like most folks, I have plans, especially tomorrow (Sunday), which is when I usually sit down and write my weekly blog post. This morning, with the weekend in mind, a rhyme began chattering inside my head–one that begged for completion. Not wanting to deter creativity, I sat down at the computer, let the words roll on, and have submitted it for this week’s blog. Hope you enjoy. As always, thanks for stopping by.


Labor Day weekend in the USA––

our final summer fling

We party and play on Labor Day

but what will autumn bring?

Will the leaves turn bright in clear sunlight

with hues of yellow and red?

Or will they brown and fall to the ground––

make trees appear gray and dead?

Will the air soon lean toward crisp and clean

or will it just turn bitter?

Will temps outside keep me wrapped inside

like a hibernating critter?

Will winter’s lace show its frosty face

and paint the earth with white?

Our weather guy, with a smile so wry,

says snow on Halloween night!

Through yule holidays will my wayward gaze

mirror random thoughts of spring?

Dreams of longer days, mixed with April sprays

and the new life they bring.

Will arctic winds blow, freeze my nose and toes

while shoveling off my driveway?

Is it even worth the time to fuss about the clime

and wish I had it my way?

’Cause skies today are fair, so why should I care?

I’ve rhyme, but I have no reason

to fret about change I can’t rearrange.

Guess I’ll just go enjoy each season.


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