September tones begin up high as winters blue begins to die,
and so now thrown to bitter ground Coats forest floor with green and brown.

The earth is now created new.
Though cold, painted with warmer hues.
And when you walk on through this wood,
crushing colour underfoot.

For that short time the fires spread,
that crimson world on which you tread,
is held aloft it's heat laid bare,
September tones burn in hair.