The time is upon us when
neither nature nor we can turn face from summer
not completely, not without the lingering wish
for warmth, and bright touch of sun...
nostalgia takes on a present tense in every
waterside photo, and thoughts of lapping waves
that caress a part of recent memory mark
tender day's fall into cooling nights.
The first shudder and curl of covers
tells us that evenings foretell
how steep the descent to the coldest
when the earth tilts her chin and
the moon takes on an anomalous warmth
in vapors of words I speak to her.
In the stillness of the slow walk
down this winding stair into cooler air
i am glad for the way summer clings to me
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