Today I’m feeling all poetic just because summer is drawing to a close. I know because everything looks kind of dusty and worn out. And yet the air seems a bit expectant, like something is coming. Fall. Felt it in the crisp air this morning and I had to put my fuzzy robe on before I went downstairs for coffee. Feels kind of nice and a little sad.
Here’s a poem you might enjoy. It appeared in Good Old Days back in 2009.
Last Picnic of Summer
By Susan Sundwall
Before she sheds her flowered dress
sweet Summer grants one last caress
and wraps her suntanned arms around
the peaceful place my heart has found
She bids me listen just once more
for water lapping on the shore,
and children thumping on the sand
to music from the oompa band
Picnic tables piled high
with buttered corn and cherry pie;
fireflies are sheer delight
blinking, winking through the night
We find some marshmallows to toast
then through the flickering fire, the ghost
of Summer who, with gentle laugh
goes slipping down bright autumn’s path
Thanks for reading.