So, summer’s on the outs,
cicadas swim around the house,
crickets clicking down the block,
we are on an early morning walk.
No one’s up, and no cars on the street,
hiding from an unrelenting heat,
sun is climbing out from underneath,
lighting up and roasting tired leaves.
Green to gold, going green to gold.
A breeze blew in, and Autumn came to town,
branches bare, the leaves rest on the ground.
All that summer worked to bud and bloom,
only to be swept up by a broom.
An uninvited frost formed overnight,
by early afternoon, we’re losing light,
now they’re saying two, three feet of snow,
the reading dips to ten degrees below.
Morning’s bright, the ancient ice withdraws,
I take one step and the ground begins to thaw,
tiny grasses spring up ‘round my shoe,
eager bits of green start peeking through.
Seedlings turn to chutes and shoot up high,
thunderclouds hold hostage summer sky,
concrete’s hot with fire it can’t contain,
we sit in front of fans and wait for rain.
And just like that, summer’s on the outs,
cicadas swim around the house,
crickets clicking down the block,
while we are on an early morning walk.
Green to gold, going green to gold.
