The full moon is always waning,
Giving cold comfort.
Stars twinkle more in black spaces.
The evening dew settles sooner,
Rises later.
The potatoes are in the house.
I've folded the lawn chairs.
Across the sky herds of clouds graze by.
The grass gets its autumn cut.
When I put the mower away,
I take down the rakes and shovels.
Dusk comes early.
House lights break through shut windows.
Street sounds diminish.
Will the trees splash us with radiance?
I languish between seasons,
Waiting for the bus to warm me as it passes
My lengthening shadow.
And when the sun filters through,
I stand in its path, face turned skyward.
I sing a eulogy for my summer,
While waiting for the cries of a newborn fall.