TITLE: Good-Bye Summer 9/15/16
By Ann Sullivan
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The shadows lengthen the light to a buttery mutation of midsummer’s airy cream. A heaviness lies on foliage and bloom alike, bent with age and the realization all will soon end. Do they think - do they worry for the number of seeds carefully settled for the next age? Do the bushes distress over their allotted parcel of impending snow, or are the trees alarmed at the winter winds’ onslaught of cold-freezer branches and broken limbs? Is death anticipated or are they passive, still, in the radiance of the sun? Do they dread the maiming weather or the gnawing insect boring to hibernate the winter in their flesh?
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