August 26, 2009
A slightly melancholy late summer poem. Words cannot fully express the ache that comes to my heart this time of year. Knowing this season of summer growth and beauty will end while fall's time of change and routine anxiously waits in the wings to begin.
Not enough time, the month slips through my fingers I try to grab it and hold tight before it's gone.
The succulent smell of the butterfly bush wafts through the back windows and I fairly swoon as I try to drink deep of all it's heady summer perfume.
The blighted tomatoes produce a few precious fruits, I pick them gingerly and press my face close to savor their unmistakable scent. One whiff and I am once again a child in my grandmother's garden. The juice of a cherry tomato pops in my mouth a warm, juicy summer tang.
Looking under those leaves the second harvest of strawberries awaits. The bright red blush of a late summer treat.
The sunflowers, oh the sunflowers whose rust, yellow, orange, mahogany and peach faces reach, turn and grow ever higher to the sun.
Behind it all the incessant insect zzzzz, zzzzzz. And cricket love songs the background symphony to my days and my lullaby at night.
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