The End of Summer

Golden crystals, bejeweled Sun-shards,

Dancing in the eye; Summer’s Sabbath

Stealthily approached, graying sky and

seas. What fragmentary joys remain in

Season of woe; the honey-dipped, sugar

Coated memories? Oh, to recall, summon

The lovely night hymns, abiding twixt

Rivers and mossy rocks, trees and cottage

Rooftops. Those where the nights, when

The land was pure, dewed in moonlight,

The crystalline essence of angels’ tears.

Oh, and how sweetly the shadows played

Hide and seek midst the forest’s high crowns,

In full bloom, stretching from tree to tree,

From man to man! Uprooted were old fears,

And dried the lamenting tears; the wind of

Freedom rocked the infant life in its gilded

Cradle of stardust, and death came not as a

Deplored intruder at the table of time, but

Was a friend, a welcome sight. Oh, how

Changed now we seem, like the Sun’s light

In Autumn, colder and foreboding; has man

Relinquished life of its wonder, and nature

Of its pride? Where, oh where is the mystical,

The extraordinary nature, imbued spiritually,

Wholly alive? Is the dirt really dead, and worm

A creature so lowly? Oh, and what’s left of

Love, of passion which once filled the warm

Summer air? Now piercing coldness raptures

The bonds of friendship between man and

Nature; former lovers now wield poisoned

Daggers...