A Calendar Of Sonnets: September Comments
O golden month! How high thy gold is heaped!
The yellow birch-leaves shine like bright coins strung
On wands; the chestnut's yellow pennons tongue
To every wind its harvest challenge. Steeped
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Her utmost gold is with the muse of love and nature. Nice work.
Fine sonnet on the beauty of gold growing on the fields with wine to be ready by the rich growth of grapes are wonderfully dealt with here!
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7/19/2025 7:32:50 AM # 1.0.0
Wonderful poem i like it. Thanks Helen