Where did it go, that lovely September?
A month that I love, as I clearly remember
The skies high and wide with a promise of Spring
Such anticipation of what summer should bring

But my joy in this blossoming green season
Was brought down so low for no earthly reason.
My child with hot brow and flaming red cheek
So limp and listless she would no longer speak

That Saturday afternoon spent pacing the ward
Her liveliness still, where once it had soared
Questioned, examined, x-rayed and then scanned
Usually so healthy, for this I’d not planned.

Along came a doctor to examine her chest
And see what to do, to say what was best.
A diagnosis, pneumonia, the medicine prescribed
My anger at my failure is best not described.

For I am her mother, should have seen all this coming
Berating myself so that depression was drumming
But who in the world can foresee such sad things
We love our happiness and avoid all the bad things

And then Tuesday I was talking with my mother
About issues and racists, just this, that, and other
She dropped a small bombshell about her own health
How these things creep on us with such great stealth?

Abruptly a phone call broke our conversation
My brother was calling in great agitation:
“Turn on the TV, there’s murder unfolding!”
Our mood so shattered at what we were beholding.

And there in New York a man turned to stare
As the wing of a plane appeared from thin air
What went through his mind as he drew a shocked breath?
This winged silver missile that presaged his death…

Copyright © October 2001 FIONA TIPPING. All rights reserved.
Reproduction or use of any portion thereof is a direct violation of US and
International copyright law.

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