Suddenly, the shadows —
four o’clock shade where
there had been none at seven
And the winged things singing
in the trees are no longer
birds but crickets cicadas
and katydids whose chirps
and hums and whirs fill the air
long into the lengthening nights
Summer is slipping away
but not yet autumn
is nudging at the mornings
but there is time still to walk
barefoot in dew-cooled grass
© 2020 by Hannah Six
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