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)