this summer wind

She moves, she breathes,

this summer wind

who has ambled so nonchalantly into this momentary place,

pushing aside the burning steam

of this overheated, this blacksmith's forge,

this summer day.

 

She warms, she cools,

this summer wind,

this come-lately friend who comes so sweetly

into this last lingering of this long, long day,

whisking away the fiery coals

with her fluttering lacy skirts,

this one more fiery oven day in my once more overheated life.

 

She whispers, she whimpers,

this summer wind,

this muffled, shallow voice carrying muffled, shallow words,

snatched from the lips of far and distant souls,

now sifting through the ashes of my wistfulness,

in these softening, slowing, saddening times,

in these dusky moments of this dying, dying summer day,

this summer wind.

 

 

 

 

The End

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