Det var ett par år sedan jag skrev det här, men jag tycker fortfarande (ingen falsk blygsamhet här, inte) att det är bland det bästa jag skrivit, och då det börjar kännas att nättrena inte är sommarvarma längre kan det vara värt att lägga upp igen.

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Summers´ End;

winds that bite, no longer soothing

a frailty of leaves and hearts;

both now red,

no longer sheltered by warmth

but  exposed,

fragile.

Summers´ End;

the final harvest, the final sun

a ripening of fruit and feelings;

both now precious,

no longer to be left untroubled

but valued,

refined.

Summers´ End;

the days go by, the nights walk slowly

a darkening of sky and senses;

both now terrible

but also hiding their treasures

not feared,

enjoyed.

Summers´ End;

Tea-time for the soul.

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