Turning the Key
by Maralee Gerke

Summer is a moveable feast.
A symphony that crescendos
on the wings of hummingbirds, the
chirps of crickets,

rises on blooms of columbine, forget-me-nots,
roses, all splash and color.
Then slows as wheat ripens in waves of gold,
and raindrops sigh on thirsty leaves.

Then one dusty Monday, the music
becomes slower, a lament of change.
The sun kisses the horizon a little sooner
and moonlight reigns in the lengthening night.

Mother nature turns the music to a minor key
and opens the door to a new season.

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