But again the fall
Hints of soft cool breezes
Early but warming late
Not ready to turn from summer just yet
But again the pools have closed
Flowers no longer revived by water
Grass that now slowly shrivels
Even without a lawnmower
Why the rake?
Why is that harbinger of fall
Still leaning lonely against the wall
Waiting to be brought to life
By worn hands and bent fingers
Gloves not really needed anymore
My eyes close to see the time unfolding
The time needed to rake the vestiges of summer
As if to lay the ground bare for the nutrients of
Bags of leaves, broken twigs, dog stuff
Being scooped up to foster new growth
And yet deep down I find fragile shells
Which once housed loud and active life
Lives that were given up to enrich and enhance
When again the clacking of the new cicadas will be heard

FXC 9/30/14