The toasted sand between my toes
the tepid tide that ebbs and flows
and lukewarm wind that gently blows
induce a peaceful slumber.
It doesn’t last and in a wink
a crisper breeze makes my heart sink
as I awake and sadly think:
tomorrow is September.
music by Ludovico Einaudi (Seven Days Walking: Day 1, “Golden Butterflies Var. 1”)
Clayton, you have such a way with words! This poem succinctly describes the turn of summer into fall; rhymes; and rolls, word by word, so trippingly off the tongue. Thanks for letting us read it.