Friday, September 02, 2011

Suumer's final holiday...

 


And so we take our leave

of warmth...

And long, lazy days...

Frogs symphonic on the river...

With stars lighting our way...

back from the campfire,

I hear song

smell beer,

brush up against ghosts

men of dreams, who no longer remain

men of cheer. whose laughter sustains

These bridges of cliche's

traversing troubled waters...

Highend siestas

taken via hammocks

swung on a breeze...

that caresses every pore...

sighing against the hush of lost motion

The chorus of crickets

Is already in final stanza

Just as Hummingbirds fly south from here...

To the borderlands of moderation.

To the place of instinctual knowing...

Where time stands in

A still life pose

Hailing the gales of December

I gaze on the lingering summer

Still here. Motionless. Briefly.

Savoring this moment in time where Labor can rest easy

awaiting the next

Big change.

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