And suddenly
there are crickets,
and the dawn air has scents
I struggle to identify  –
dried wildflowers, sun on fir –
and the easy summer feeling
that still tastes like freedom
rests in my steps

It is a subtle tipping, perhaps,
towards what is next  –
long before fall’s rush of excitement,
but something weightless
in the balance
after the climb, before the descent.

©Wendy Mulhern
July 14, 2021