The chimney
swifts are gone,
and they took
their cheerful voices,
Instead,
I hear
cicadas whine
With a sound
that spells the end,
The sky is
faded blue
By the
blazing summer sun,
Maple leaves
are tinged with red,
The first
hint of the coming Fall,
The scent of
new mown hay
Lies heavy
in humid air,
It is the
end of summer,
--the waning
days of summer,
--I’ll say
good-bye to summer,
Until it
comes next year.
~Kathie Adams Brown (August 27, 2014)
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