At the End of Summer
by Michael Escoubas

There is a drawing down
of color
July’s blue-green glitterings
diminish
into a fraction of yesterday’s
exultations
when the forest bloomed–

Even so
the sequined sun sends
a tanned haze
through stands of oaks and maples–
a glow that wraps the forest
in a cloak
of wonder, a paradise
to be observed–

Each season speaks to the heart
beckoning joy
at the end, as at the start–

The forest path, no less
an image
of what we feel and know
at the end
of summer, as at the end
of life–
let beauty reign.



 

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