Late summer lies
around, but does not
seem to, well, you
know, be here. I've
lost so many
seasons this year
I hardly tell
lapping leaves from
leaflets just rose
to frame a bay,
a bay that is
now thickly clad
with leaf I do
not see. The cause
may be moving
but perhaps no
one can say. It
is late summer.
Where I planted
flowers it is
spring however.
Just enough to
grow a small smile.
I look out on
the green shade of
my thought and know
I will know no
thing for a while.
--Nena Beckley
