The Crickets of September (by Laura Orem)

The cricket's chirping changes in September. It gets less frenetic, more melancholic, as if announcing that summer is winding down. The nights turn cooler, and the daylight takes on a thinner, clearer, bluer tone. Even the birdsong diminishes, no longer the passion-filled tumbled notes of high summer, but now a subdued, pensive twitter as if it is time to think seriously about things. And, not yet distracted by apple-picking, pumpkin patches, and goblins, we get a little sad at the change.

A poem that echoes this mood is Stanley Kunitz' s "Touch Me." I saw him read this when it was still in manuscript; I remember being thrilled that a poet in his 90s actually had stuff in manuscript. And this particular poem reminds us that, even though autumn and then winter encroaches, in the heart there is always summer.

"Touch Me"

by Stanley Kunitz. From The Collected Poems

Summer is late, my heart.
Words plucked out of the air   
some forty years ago
when I was wild with love   
and torn almost in two
scatter like leaves this night   
of whistling wind and rain.   
It is my heart that’s late,
it is my song that’s flown.   
Outdoors all afternoon
under a gunmetal sky
staking my garden down,
I kneeled to the crickets trilling   
underfoot as if about
to burst from their crusty shells;   
and like a child again
marveled to hear so clear   
and brave a music pour
from such a small machine.   
What makes the engine go?   
Desire, desire, desire.
The longing for the dance   
stirs in the buried life.
One season only,
                        and it’s done.
So let the battered old willow
thrash against the windowpanes   
and the house timbers creak.   
Darling, do you remember

the man you married?  Touch me,
remind me who I am.

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