August rain: the best of the summer gone, and the new fall not yet born. The odd uneven time.”
~ Sylvia Plath
Days shorten, leaching lingering heat from warm stones.
Sunlight, tired from its long, hot work,
Lies down, fat and sleepy, yearning to hibernate.
Trees shed their shimmering emerald mantle
Donning rich russets and amber.
Autumn waits patiently to emerge,
While summer searches
For her last pieces of gold
At the end of a rainbow.