early eve, an august day,
the shadow's long but
end of summer still far away,
the heat is less
than it was yesterday,
the sun is less by then-until-today,
but already I am burying it all away,
nightfall echoes,
people,     on their way home,
that's the way it all goes.
early eve, an August day,
a warm wind blows
life down the hallway of the choices we have made,
it used to be may and may it be
may again someday