A Passing Summer Returns

DRAFT In progress………

In August,

we thought we had forgotten.

And upon arrival,

We realized we had to just continue.

“I will never leave you.”

Whispers old lady summer.

By September, a rhythm

Only upset by a single cold morning.

“Aren’t I beautiful?”

In October a hope arises,

None of this will end.

“Stand by me, my sweets.”

By November,

Moments can be perfect, fragile, then lost.

“Please, not now… Why?”

In December,

The last leaf falls

On a rising wind

And we hope we will never forget.

“Because we will meet again.”

Looking upstream from the North-South run, a thickening storm at sunset paints a mid-October sky.  Back home, they thought we were just goofy boys playing with fish.  To those who knew, who really knew, they could tell you it had little to do with the fish…
Looking upstream from the North-South run, a thickening storm at sunset paints a mid-October sky. Back home, they thought we were just goofy boys playing with fish. To those who knew, who really knew, they could tell you…