Summer's End
By Deborah J. Lindsey
Summer stared down the country lane
as she fanned with her wide-brimmed hat.
"My replacement is overdue,"
she said. "I am certain of that."
Pesky dog days yipped at her heels,
and yapped at dusty tornados.
Summer turned her mournful gaze to
a garden stripped of tomatoes.
Across the road, orange pumpkins laughed;
Grapes twined purple beside the gate;
Summer sighed, deep in weary thought,
"My successor is so very late!"
Then Summer noticed down the lane,
to the herald of wild goose call,
swirling leaves, all russet and gold;
announcing her relief, the fall.
C Copyright 2001 By Deborah J. Lindsey
