Late August

Summer tumbles
in somersaults and quick cartwheels
Everyone rushing to have fun
Taste last fine times while sun’s
bright fruits 
still ooze their juices

Night falls faster
Crickets’ serenade continues
Coolness creeps around the edges of the days
Goldenrod reigns
And the scent of dried wildflowers,
And pangs of endings and beginnings
crash into each other’s heels
in a dazed attempt
to brake
against the steep acceleration of the year.

©Wendy Mulhern
August 25, 2012


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