poem

 End of SummerI love the end of summerThis quasi autumnBefore the leaves turnWhen it seems everythingHas settled into aForm of final being Not too hotNot too coldA heaven ignorant of hellCrickets chirping with jazz trio confidenceWhile the birds seem to know they have plenty of time.Nature ’s stopped producingBut nothing is ready to be sold Nothing is dying yetAnd nothing is being bornIt ' s as close as we get to a paintingWhere everything we seeHas come to timeless fruitionNostalgia has narrowedDown to a sliver containing Only what is right now This cracked sidewalkAnd a sense that we ' re allJust kind of stalling.Kids rattling by on bikesWhile someone ’s mother is callingEven in the evening breezeThe languorous leaves scornWarnings of a falling 9/11/22

Source: Buckeye Surgeon - September 11, 2022 Category: Surgery Authors: Jeffrey Parks MD FACS Source Type: blogs