September

by James Jewell

SEPTEMBER

Sitting outside after a long day’s work,

my eye is captured by a majestic red tree

a short distance away

seen through thinning others.

The whole outdoors, in fact,

is awash with color

so vibrant it looks as if caught

by a filtered camera.

But there is no filter—

just the setting sun.

And there is no camera—

just the God-given eye.

And besides, nothing could ever capture

the way this very moment

looks, feels, sounds, or smells.

All you can do is hold it and be held.

The cool breeze in the leaves sounds

like a thousand thin Bible pages turning

in this reverent outdoor cathedral

without a single other sound.

The orange and pink

undersides of clouds,

a perfectly half moon

visible as they move.

And then there’s that sumptuous red tree.

So lovely that if this evening were set to music

the image of that tree,

right now,

should grace the cover.

JAMES JEWELL

James Jewell is a physician in North Carolina where he resides with his wife. He is a girl daddy with three grown daughters of whom he is very proud. In his free time he enjoys his family, walks with his dogs, cheering on his favorite college sports team, reading, fly fishing, gardening, and writing poetry.