A trifle longer just each day
it takes the sun to drink away
the morning’s dew from fading green,
the last rain’s puddles left between
the twining roots of the old trees.
the twining roots of the old trees.
But helping winds with their new breeze
try fooling the suspicious eye
and make us think perhaps that—why—
it is still summer. Must be so.
We only started it just--months ago.
* * *
