the blooming flower of summer has died not to be reborn until next year.soon the dark will slowly creep down from the sky like soft drifting snowflakes,farmers still tillt the silent land ever hoping  for rain to kiss their thirsty crops ,the field scarecrow keeps watch in order to chase away unwelcome flying birds of prey,smells  from the kitchen of bacon eggs biscuits fried ham okra home fries  grits black coffee tea assult the nose like early morning cold air  the sun rises slowly from its  golden covers  filling the earth as night steps off the stage exits left before taking its final bow