Summer travels beyond itself and
warms the stones and gives
the flowers more of what they love.
it is like a lover who, though he
has told you he is leaving, returns
and kisses you until you are panting,
makes you believe he will always
hold you. But then, even as your lips part
and you lean in, he is gone again,
taking his warmth with him,
leaving your skin somehow more fragile
in the thin autumn air.