These last days of summer are restful
The vines all plucked and pruned
The humid heat abating
The children packed away at school
The afternoons clear and quiet.
The light remains
And I can walk in the early morning
Without hat or coat.
The reeling drone of the cicadas has faded
And the late sunshine gilds the treetops, still lush
And holding against the soon coming
Wind and darkness
That will carry life away for another season.