Summer's almost gone for some ...

Summer yawns her languid arms,
encircling the lily leaves in there-there hugs.
English ivy tendril beyond the confines.
Spiderwebs wait for soon-doomed bugs.

Tuberous begonia bursts forth a farewell
of sparkly salmon pink blooms.
We will ourselves to keep mindfully awake,
as green-gone-tired whirls past, zooms.

Feet as rocks, we slowly straddle
the rickety bridge of a seasonal change.
Sinking into the weeds of wild borne fruit
memories crush the wine of nature's rearrange.

Did we have too much fun?
Smile too hard into a radiant sun?

Or have we fashioned ourselves as long draughts,
aged and weathered, yet softly soothed and centered,
not caring of senseless if, ands, or aughts?

A few yellowed leaves, having lost their plea
straggle from the buckeye tree.
Precursors of the mass exodus layering
necessary for a foundational new bring.

Mid-breath, mid-step, I stop and savor.
Drawing into me this changeling flavor.

The still gold finch.
Gnawed bits of hickory nuts.
A cooler breeze.
The whiff of transitional gluts.

Here is where I stand.
Caught in the in-between.
Tethered as a fluttering prayer flag,
in the earth's careening serene.

mj 8.16.17 poem and photo collage