End of Summer
I love the end of summer
This quasi autumn
Before the leaves turn
When it seems everything
Has settled into its
Form of final being
Not too hot
Not too cold
A heaven ignorant of hell
A god who never met his devil
Crickets chirping with jazz trio confidence
While the birds seem to know they have plenty of time.
Nature’s done producing
But nothing is ready to be sold
Nothing is dying yet
And nothing is being born
It's as close as we get to a painting
Where everything we see
Has come to timeless fruition
Nostalgia has narrowed
Down to a sliver containing
Only what is right now
This cracked sidewalk
And a sense that we're all
Just kind of stalling.
Kids rattling by on bikes
While someone’s mother is calling
Even in the evening breeze
The languorous leaves scorn
Warnings of a falling
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