Summer Ending, by David Middleton

It’s a dark day, my friends…and winter is coming.

Summer Ending

Green blades grow pale and still

Below this windowsill

Whose clearest panes

A sheer light stains,

Then passes where it will.

The grass’s crickets cry,

Compelled to mate and die,

And thus to share,

Though unaware,

In my more chilling sigh.

or here I rock and stare,

Grown old in this old chair,

Alert to what

Crickets are not,

Hope woven with despair.

The first leaves reach my door,

Pecan and sycamore,

As summer ends

And fall portends

What winter knows before.

– David Middleton


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