Wednesday, September 24, 2008

Summer is Leaving

Summer is leaving.

It is September and the air is cooling
But my mind does not grasp that we
Are running downhill now towards a
Cold hard winter while wooly worms
Are taking on that second coat of fur.

I hate winter.

Especially I hate the winter that is
After Christmas and before me now
I see a long flat stretch of snow covered
Lots and fields where even the brown
Grass is covered by wind driven drifts.

My morning started as it usually does
With a cup of coffee in my hand and
The newspaper tucked under my arm,
As I walked out over the asphalt lot
To the bench under the still leaved trees.

The sun was up and if I had not known
It was September 20th, with fall two days
Distant, I would have seen a summer day
Through the glass door as I left the house.
The air was filled with the sound of geese.

Leaving this place for another warmer one.
They flew in a familiar wing, wings outstretched
And flapping together as friends and family
Often move toward the same place in time.
Yes, summer is leaving with the geese.

September 23, 2008

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