A  SUMMER SWAN SONG

When August takes her apron off
And shakes it out to dry;
When scrappy crows and blue jays scoff
As summer breathes a sigh;
Then katydids and crickets call
A raspier refrain,
Or none at all, as gold leaves fall
In  soft September rain.
 Those dogs that dozed when August was,
Revive and perk their ears,
When yellow buses swarm and buzz,
As seasons shift their gears.
Cobwebs wear cozy warm up suits,
Festooned with dewdrop pearls;
Ripe seeds unfurl silk parachutes
  To soar or dance in swirls.
A saffron shroud, a gold dust cloud,
Transfigures field and tree,
And scarecrows yield, their proud heads bowed,
Awed by God’s artistry.

-- Helen Ewoldsen -- 2-21-02