In the lateness of summer cotton like seeds float free,
here or there collecting in little piles that scatter.
Trees are still green but parched, past their best look,
as the world turns for autumn and the first sense
of falling leaves is not just a distant idea.
This bronze light is soft and beautiful, without the glare
bleaching the world.
We count blessings and know what a privilege it is
to be together like this, with time to ourselves,
when we can take our time, and in fact no one needs us
for anything, whether small or large.
We might go for a long walk in the woods
overlooking the sound, realizing where did summer go.
And we watch the ocean turn to gold as the sun goes down
behind the hill of shadow, and the moon begins sailing
into its dream of pure light and darkness.
We hold each other closer then head back along the path
to head home.
Born out of love, out of habit, out of the decency
handed down through generations
because we believe in love, it is ours
and we are beautiful and happy together.
Irrevocable as autumn, the facets in front of us
streaming gold.
Stephen Cipot
Garden City Park
