When summer ends and it’s fall time,
they'll be no floating with my wine.

No more upon the float I'll lie
amused by moon-lit clouds up high.

No more the current of the pool
adrift around the bank so cool.

No meditations in the night.
No solace, cloaked in inky sight.

And yet, t'is but a price I'll pay
to see an end to summer's sway.

My nightly swims, I gladly cease
to gain the autumn's cool release.

So, for the *****, I nightly glide.
But, friends in thee, I must confide...

I wait with glee for leaves to turn
and for wood smoke, begin to yearn.