Come, winter winds

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.