Late summer

Wrinkled black maple leaves fall on the ground

Green crab apples dot the fruit trees (again)

Orange sun dips and dims ever slowly, a clock

unwinds, music when soft voices die-

The season in transition begins -

a limerence - short-lived- with nature

Joy in all its exuberance as rain

pouring down, refreshing as cold ice on hot day

Wilting petals, incomplete poems & unopened books

remind me that birds will soon fly south of the border

I'll bottle up this music of birdsongs

& sweetness of child's laughter in the park

The smell of smoke from grilled meats

lingers, as well as the crisp evening air that drapes the sky

With autumn grey.    With a coat, I sip warm chocolate, 

inhaling the last of summer blooms & harvest of fruits

Music, when soft voices die,

Vibrates in the memory—

–Percy Bysshe Shelley, Music when soft voices die (Note/Credit to the poet)

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - August Transitions, hosted by Merril D. Smith.  Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.