The first of August,
and it's twenty-four degrees outside,
but I can't but think
that this is the end of summer,
a low, slow beginning
for the end of summer;
swimming yesterday and the day before
I came across on the dark
evening waters fallen leaves,
floating among the bubbles
of water-striders,
and songbirds
have fallen silent, their
nests empty, and its
the honking of shorebirds
preparing to migrate echoing
on the shores in the declining
light of the Sun falling
behind the hills.
01.08.2025
#Verse #Poem #Poems #Poetry
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