You can tell when it's September in Kentucky. The deer are more active in the evening, the fields of corn and tobacco are being harvested, the grass turns from bright green to brown and the barns at Keeneland start to fill with the yearlings being offered for sale at the most prestigious yearling sales in the world. I also found a broken heart someone had discarded hiding in an old tree long dead. I don't know if it died from old age, a lightning strike or if the broken heart did it in. I just thought it was interesting. You poets out there should write something about that!
