Wearing Down
Summer is wearing down
like a grizzled old man snoring
in a rocking chair on the porch;
the grass is thin and brown as
a threadbare rug; stagnant air
decaying with old memoirs
of spring loves long soured.
~ ~ ~
Summer is wearing down
like a worn shoe filled with holes
where the elation of welcome warmth
has fallen out. Cicadas drone like
a battery failing to start the car.
The fierce, relentless sky gleams
hot and bare, and baked earth lies
cracked from this tedious pulsing heat.
~ ~ ~
At last the tardy dawn begins to
tease, sprawling out later and
lazier, slanting lower, squinting
farther into the horizon;
luring a newborn autumn.
© Copyright 1999 Rosemary J. Gwaltney
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