Everywhere I look,
I see signs that summer's coming to an end:
The maple leaf, once green, once larger than my face,
now small and yellow, drifted from her branch;
the dragonfly, her iridescent flutter once so pleasing,
now lying stiff and sightless on my fading picnic table --
and still I think I hear the labored breathing of the dog
we laid to rest just a few weeks ago...
Come winter winds, and blow the memories away.