The End

It is the end of the summer season
Yesterday, I put on a long sleeved tunic
Not a halter top, sundress or
brightly colored brief top

The days of heat and humidity are
coming to a close like my squash plants
covered in powdery mildew
Bearing fruit, the dying plant produces
babies as if it knows of its imminent death.

The green leaves coated in a haze of white
are wilting and pulling the thick stems aside
exposing the last of the summer harvest.

This was the summer of yellow
zuchinni and crookneck squash.
Not a green zucchini in sight
I planted three crops
that did not germinate

But pumpkin that I did
not plant have taken over
the greenhouse the yard and the hostas

Second only to the Morning Glories that have
glorious palm sized leaves no matter the
time of day. My steel arches are covered
in a woven fabric of vine and green with
the occasional violet flower

Girlie’s morning ritual includes
taking my hand in hers to assist with
the steps. She smiles up at me
sunlight in her eyes and teeth
“Gorie?” she plucks a flower and hands
one to me, finding another she plucks
petals until it is a pile in her wake

She skip hops to the driveway
afro bobbing like a moth on the butterfly bush
looking for the elusive something
that toddlers see
with the unsullied spirit
of new eyes

Oh, to be so young and innocent
again in the fall of my long life

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