By John Aldred
The dew settles end takes a while to dry
The sleepy sun yawns and half rises
Blinds my eye at mid day then slides away
To an early rest.
The flowers, past their best,
Nod in the shortened day
Dim their colour but spread their seed
And sink to a needed rest.
The summer birds, fuel filled, flock
And follow the sun
To a new nest.
A final blaze of golds and browns and reds;
And the curtain closes on another summer's play
Autumn clears the stage
Ready for winters rage.
Copyright © 1999 John Aldred