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.
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