The last throes of summer


The heather has turned brown as

Leaves flutter into pools of

Mud, created by tears of

Despair, carried by cavernous

Clouds, fleeing across

Skies of doom and despondence

But today as I sit here

Watching life migrate by

A season gone comes

Out to play for one

Last time, one last

Day as life returns and

Every nook and cranny is

Warmed for one last

Time and insects play

Out the last scene of

Their lives before the

Sun sets one more

Time on a barren landscape

That awaits the return of

Life once more but not

Today

29 thoughts on “The last throes of summer

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