|
Comment on this
article
At Summer's End
by Joseph Vega
At the end of our fortieth summer
we will travel to the woods
and seek familiar paths to our old friends
the elms standing stoically in the last light.
Rivers must be trickling streams at summers end
and darkness must usher us back,
for summerwoods can offer no solace —
it too is fleeting with the coming of autumn.
Return to:
|