The End of Summer
When poppies in the garden bleed,
and coreopsis goes to seed,
and pansies blossoming past their prime,
grow smaller and smaller all the time.
When on the mown field, shrunk and dry,
brown dock and purple thistle lie,
and smoke from forest fires at noon,
can make the sun appear the moon.
When apple seeds all white before,
begin to darken in the core.
I know that summer scarcely here,
is gone until another year.
© Aug 28 2010 Charles Henderson
For Amelia's "Fall" contest
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