August's Summer

Once again the strength to rise early, escapes in fleeting suns. The muscles ache and flinch in pain as the humidity of the day breathes heavy. The breaths are an anguished struggle overcoming the fog of the mind. The garden still calls, reaching out to the very senses that imagined it in spring. Chipmunks, rabbits, squirrels, sparrows, cardinals, chickadees,titmouse, wrens and blue jays - each come to visit, even an occasional hummingbird wings in, and caterpillars and cabbage moths flutter by. Life abounds as August summer nears its end like all of life the living pace slows, less desperate, more willing and accepting. These lonely years reflect on what is now remembering what was then. The years begin approaching winter clinging only for a moment summer's end, inevitablility of autumn's fall. We are not immortals bodies succumbing to the wear and tare of time. Some are given less completing the tasks of life melded into the living journies. Others take longer needing to see, to hear, to learn the lessons of being here. One day though each and everyone must step through the door, We move beyong this now that encompassed every moment, every action, thought and heartbeat. It is the soul slipping through years of time anxious and longing to return home. As August's summer comes sweep away the memory of spring gathering in autumn's harvest Winter waits.