Summer is officially coming to a close. This is sad for some, but I relish the onset of fall. Here's one of my favorite poems about this time of year.
Three Songs at the End of Summer
by Jane Kenyon
A second crop of hay lies cutand turned. Five gleaming crowssearch and peck between the rows.They make a low, companionable squawk,and like midwives and undertakerspossess a weird authority.Crickets leap from the stubble,parting before me like the Red Sea.The garden sprawls and spoils.
Read the entire poem.