Aging Summer
Soft, warm breezes betray with shallow breaths,
Long golden hours spent waiting on the night;
When glints of sunlight flare their tiny deaths,
And crimson clouds salute the passing light.
The morning dance sleeps longer with each day;
The molten orb is later to embark
On daily journeys, swiftly on its way
To rendezvous with shadows of the dark.
The torrid air now carries scent of cool
And misty daybreak, rain-soaked window panes,
That signal change, a limpid, liquid pool --
A mirage of refreshing Autumn rains.
We sense the changes, soon upon us all;
As aging Summer births the infant Fall.
Mick McKellar
August 2015
Far too often I hear the remark, "There is a touch of fall in the air."
Mick
1 comment:
Nice one, Mick!
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