Summer is gone
and the moon is left hanging,
solitary in an untidy sky

Summer is gone
and the clouds beat the grass,
with a yawn, and a tearful sigh

Summer is gone,
and the trees wilt
their branches,
tender leaves fall,
drift, sweep,
crawl
onto clay-covered floor

Everything falls
after summertime

evenings are swallowed
by night
mornings sink deep
into light

the world is quiet,
and tired,
and sad

heat stained, sun drained
Autumn flies in heavy chains
So we ask: why?
Summer is gone