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The sumac is turning to burnt sienna
and the golden rod glows in the green.
Summer is bidding for open eyes
that all her last splendors be seen.

 

She calls out in the evening,

“Our time is fading, the heat in me cools,
the pace of our passion is slowing,
and temperance rules.

 

In the breath of fall, I embrace you;
in my old, loving leaves we shall play.
Once more I’ll look upon you;
will you look upon this day?

 

Will you recall the sweat I placed upon your skin?
Will you remember my cool springs that relieved?
Will you enter the swaddle of winter
and forget not what we,

in summer,

believed?

 

Hear the cranes – how they cry in parting.
Hear how the locust sings.
Hear the poplars rustle in season’s end –
the death and beauty it brings.

 

I shined on you as best I could, my love,
though suffered you some storms
I know.

I shared with you the best I had, my love,
in all my altered forms,
you know.

 

The air is changed,
and I along beside.
Autumn calls me home again
wherein the great hall I shall reside,

storing warmth at the hearth
for another season-

another season-

another season-

 

and in new spring rain
with new fire, and new eyes
I hope to see you again.”

 

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