The Chimney Swifts are Gone

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)