one night, late august, 2015


Enclosed on my front porch I sit listening to a late August night unfolding.

Listening to sounds of rain gently falling.

Listening to passing cars splashing down the road.

Listening to hidden crickets calling each other.

Though open windows I feel a cool dampness rolling in.

From the outside world I smell an invasion of dank odors.

Leaves, grass, bark and muddy dirt.

Nights like this cause my mood to become wistful.

For I know what's coming next, a since of a loss.

Summer, the season I wait for most a year, is waning.

A pain will emerge, one so strong it's felt deep within my soul.

One that will reverberate throughout my being.

Once again I believed in summer's yearly myth, that of eternal time.

Only to receive, a few short months later, a long goodbye kiss.

A kiss of shorter days to come.

A kiss of cooler nights and blankets.

A kiss of a coming change.

The rain has stopped, it's job done.

Washed away, days from a summer retired.

Crickets sing and dance a new autumn in.

After Halloween I'll rake up this past season's calling cards.

The final act of saying goodbye to a friend.


doug thornhill (dct)