Summer’s Last Rain


Some feel the wetness/others the
chill/others the silent sense that
something is over/something is
gone/something has turned the
corner toward a difference a
change…a new way of
being/seeing/believing and it is…
it is again and again
but nothing is new/everything is
the same/subtly (so subtly)
different in effect it never changes
never says goodbye only like
going from this room to the
next/not outside/not away
forever and
The next rain will be autumn with
coldness and longing/with a
nod to the sun now silent and
sullen/with a moment waiting
a miniature pause while mean
man winter stirs/sleeps on
dreaming that it is his turn/his
right to wreak havoc/give
us his attention…
summer’s last rain is not like
others/not fall/not spring…it
feels final/feels like goodbye
all wrapped and ready/all
bow-tied…left on a doorstep
we feel it different see it
different but all know that
summer has left
the building.

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