Summer . . .

Almost every day I take a walk up to our garden and have a look around. There are five fat watermelons and as many pumpkins waiting to be picked - but not quite yet. The weeds are a bit higher than we'd like especially where the herbs are planted. Tall grass stands along the boards hubby used to keep the rabbits out and the mesh deer fence is sagging. The last few visits, though, have seen a bit of sadness seep in as I realize what's coming. Fall. The tomato plants give testimony to that fact in their brown leaves and stems, just barely able to hold the heavy ripening fruit. The cucumber plants are dying on the vine and the summer squash and zuchinni are in the last days. These realities - along with the Halloween stuff and pumpkins showing up in the stores - force me to look ahead to the next season. In doing so I remembered the following poem; one I sold to Good Old Days back in 2009.

Last Picnic of Summer

Before she sheds her flowered dress

sweet Summer grants one last caress

and wraps her suntanned arms around

the peaceful place my heart has found

She bids me listen just once more

for water lapping on the shore,

and children thumping on the sand

to music from the oompa band

Picnic tables piled high

with buttered corn and cherry pie;

fireflies are sheer delight

blinking, winking through the night

We find some marshmallows to toast

then through the flickering fire, the ghost

of Summer who, with gentle laugh

goes slipping down bright autumn’s path

Let me know what you think. Maybe this is how it is for you, too, as you look ahead to the beauty of autumn and remember the delights of summer.

Image: Michal Marcol                                                   Free Digital Photos