Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

summer shows its age:
morning sun
no longer in my eyes
while I prepare breakfast...
the front door
no longer swollen
with summer humidity...
cadinal flowers
asters
milkweed pods
mushrooms poking up through the litter...
goldenrods
joe-pye weed -
bees and wasps
swarming across their umbrels
like shoppers at a mall
the week before Christmas
(gather ye while ye may)...
the swamp maples blush red
the nights linger, begin to cool
school bus schedules
the sun - a little lower in the sky?
the moon - a little higher?
distant rumbles of Winter...
as unstoppable
as Time itself

lovely...mary oliver-esque...
the noticeable transition that leaves a mark in our hearts

Here in Dark City (Seattle) we barely get summer in the first place. It hides behind gray until some time in July, suddenly bursts onto the scene and ducks under cold, wet gray a few weeks later in August, and everyone says "oh how I love the fall." God I hate that ...