Nightsong, September

Amy L. Greenspan

July 30, 2023

Not until midnight does September heat 

yield to the breeze that swings my hammock.

Above me, the rustle of sycamore leaves,

thirsty and dark against moon-washed sky – 

a song of longing, a wishful refrain.

A distant train lends a rhythmic hum

to the music of wind-stirred branches.

A scatter of stars dancing in sync

taps miniscule beats on a cloudless stage. 

In this singing darkness, I start to believe

in sun that’s gentle, in skies that rain,

in summers that end, seasons that finally change.

Amy L. Greenspan spent most of her career in legal publishing. Amy’s poems have appeared in a number of collections, including Weaving the Terrain: 100-Word Southwestern Poems; Lifting the Sky: Southwestern Haiku and Haiga; multiple editions of the Texas Poetry Calendar; Texas Poetry Assignment; di-verse-city; cattails; and Haiku Presence.