I sense the season shift,
Though outwardly, nothing much is changed.
The air continues warm. In the afternoon,
It will be hot again.
Only an edge of coolness lingers
In early morning. In the evening
Light mellows, shadows lengthen and
Deepen. The sky is a paler blue.
Mostly, though, it is the hush,
As if all nature has exhaled and
Pauses before breathing in again,
Resting after the fervid passion of
Spring birth and summer’s hot
Ripening,
Before the slow glide into autumn,
A last fling of color and flower
Earned in summer heat
Before the absolute rest of winter.
August 15, 1995.