Summer’s End

You gave me lungs
and songs to sing.   October’s  frost
has kissed the pumpkin;  night air
wears a growing chill.

Soul to soul
we spent the currency of Spring,
Now maples wear their glory’s flame;
too soon the brilliant blaze is done.

I hear the gone sound
of a thousand silver wings;
fireflies, dragon flies,
jet planes,

I watch the sky
with just a tiny twinge,
who could mourn
such a splendid season?

8 replies on “Summer’s End”

fireflies & dragonflies & jet planes! how magical the thousand silver wings. sarah, I appreciate the grateful tone with which you open lung/song /it’s like a delicate song of celebration.
your ending resonates with the cycle of the seasons and your lungs sing out a delectable song.
hard to believe it’s late October here and in seventies degrees!—kallie

Liked by 1 person


I thank you! The temperatures are so unusual. This is the first time in my sumpety sumpthin’ years
that I have not had the heat on by October 1st, and here it is October 21st and still I have not turned the
furnace on. I’m hearing that will all change next week when a cold front comes through. I will shiver and
complain, but somewhere inside I will be relieved that things are back to ‘normal’. I am so grateful for this
season, for this place to share poetry, and for your return to this fireside.



Hi Sarah

What a magical poem expressing the gift of song

You gave me lungs
and songs to sing.

that the season gives us; and how its passing leaves us with the flame of beauty, that is not distinguished but relished, cherished even more perhaps in its absence —

watch the sky
with just a tiny twinge,
who could mourn
such a splendid season?

Thank you for sharing this beautiful poem!
I loved it and could deeply relate!!

Take care,
my best

Liked by 1 person


Thank you! Your comments are as special as the season!!
I am counting my blessings that you and autumn are here
and thinking that every day is a day to celebrate thanksgiving.



A tiny twinge of knowing what comes next,
the big sleep and the end of things growing.
And yet, though there is a little sadness,
who could mourn with such beauty all around.

Much enjoyed.

Liked by 1 person

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