Summer is dying.

I heard her moan
Last night in the voice
Of a furious Eastern Wind.

Yet her warm breath lingers.

Yes, electric voices prognosticate;
Numbered days too
Say it's so,

But I Knew this morning:

Read it clearly in the brightness
Of The Hunter climbing steeply
Above the Wasatch--

Truly the Heavens were Telling--

Oh, that my too, too, weary,
Wandering Heart
Would Hear.

09/18/2004

Author's Note: "Weary of Earth and Yearning"

Posted on 09/19/2004
Copyright © 2024 Leonard M Hawkes