Faded Blossom

Dog Days
The porch swing hangs heavy.
The potted plants sigh.
But none is so hot nor
So weary as I.
The music of crickets,
The buzz of the fly,
Is droning unanswered
Tired and dry.
The sun on the garden
Has dried every leaf.
The vines are all withered;
Gone summer’s feast.
The Queen Anne has faded,
Is no longer white.
All life waits in stillness
For coolness of night.
We watch for the promise
Of color on trees,
Of pears and of pumpkins
To come with the ease,
Of cooler and wetter
Oh, welcome relief
From the dog days of summer
The satin cerise
Of summer’s late sunsets
Those guarantee all
The geese winging southward
God sending us fall.
©Elece Hollis 

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