The Last Day of Summer
Yesterday, it was here; boldly infringing
on autumn's turf, dipping between
mounds of golden maples and spilling
satiny warmth across my bare arms.
There was no announcement,
no fanfare, just a slathering
of bright-hued light.
Today, a cold damp slab presses
my thoughts inward; short heaves of frost
portend the fury of approaching winter.
Had I known, I would have cradled
each moment before it rolled away;
I would have marked each degree
of earth's rotation with a wistful salute.
Now all I can do is mold a shell
to enclose the echo
of summer's retreat.
© Copyright 2003 Laryalee Fraser
Poem of the Day at
Poetism
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