Late Summer

 

God,

how I love late summer.

That moment

before the heat finally breaks,

the cool air of night

beckons the harvest,

and the bounty of the field

starts to show.

Frenetic times are faded.

The summer’s luster’s lost

it’s shine,

but the days still blaze,

even as the nights

get longer.

You and I come to our own.

No longer beaten by the heat,

but mellowed,

like a piece of ice

brings out the flavor

in the whiskey.

Shake off our frantic skins.

The deeds are done

and for this brief

moment of repose,

we watch the procession

of Sun,

and Moon,

and stars,

and gifts from the Heliosphere.

Dawn and dusk

bleed together,

just like we have mingled

our blood,

and our tears,

and our frustrations

into the warm miasma of August.

We settle,

like a September breeze,

speaking of plans,

only weeks away,

but for now,

we’re gonna coast through.

You hold my hand

and we sit close,

watching the Sun go down.

In this hard,

unforgiving land,

there are seasons.

We become accustomed

to the bright sun

and warm days,

the heat and the adulation

of the growing season,

but we know

that change

is just around the bend.

The new start.

The harvest.

The death of the year.

Change will come

and we are ready.

I am ready to share it

with you.

Here,

in this moment

of quiet twilight.

In the heart

of late summer.

 

 

HG – 2022

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