Carmie Mason Poet Prose Poetry

Summer's End

Summer’s End

The sun begins to set a little earlier now—
a gentle breeze brushes past my suntanned face and
I walk briskly on the sand which feels cool beneath my feet.
My pace quickens, like the prance of a Cat on the prowl.

Once home, the trees which line the street on which I live
stand majestically tall.  No longer still, they begin to
sway to the music of the gentle breeze which softly touches
and fondles the leaves with a caress that only the breeze can give.

The air envelopes me, telling me it’s cooler than before—
and I run to the place that I call home,
Glad to be sheltered from something I feel in the air—
from a sky whose sun, today, will shine no more.

I pause in the house whose windows openly beckon the freshness of the crisp breeze as it quietly enters, gently pushing aside the ruffled curtains, and as it filters through the rooms—
I suddenly realize, it’s Summer’s End!

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