Compass

The Last Day of Summer

Late September wavelets shush and fizzle-
out, a little lace into damp sand, a glisten
dulled, a rainbow bubble trail may slip
to a whisper-wind or sit at sea-lip, pop.

On land as at sea, small crops. Dandelions
emerge to catch a few beams, maybe,
endure the gloom, and seed-head smartly.

Marsh willow herb offers again, tender
minute, white-hearted, violet ditherers
under this grey lidding.
                                              The apples,
rosy and heavy, are luscious-sweet,
where they are not rotten on the tree
nor black blotched, maggot inhabited.

No urgency to leave a summer,
fingers trailing slowly into yearning,
nor impel north winds to raw knuckle-bones

Though Cadbury's 'Heroes' *are snow adorned,
Christmas-ready, the wet this year has left
most trees lounging easy in their greens
and only the empty pear is turning here.

.................
*Chocs by a UK Manufacturer