Lament For Summer

Gone the probing shafts of dawn's
early light gently introducing the
promised warmth and beauty of
another summer glorious day. Gone
too, the lilting birdsong exuberantly
meeting the flush of daylight hours.

Memory and longing tuck away
the fragrance of heritage blooms, the
exquisite loveliness of petals folding,
overlapping and enfolding, silken
and complex colours and shades
defying nature's painterly brush.

Faded, all, lapsed into stale and
desiccated remnants of the intense
glories of shape, texture, fragrance,
colour and abundant sublimity they
once were prided for. Gone, and we,
forlorn, their memory dimly recalled.

Now, the sky clamps its dark lid early
on these cold fall days, and we mourn.
Gone, the summer warmth and light,
airy breezes. Gone the joys of spontaneity
of movement. Faded the flowers, bare the
trees, and fled the songbirds, butterflies,
leaving our world a wan, leaner place.