Faded Blossom

Dog Days

The porch swing hangs heavy.

The potted plants sigh.

But none is so hot nor

So weary as I.

The music of crickets,

The buzz of the fly,

Is droning unanswered

Tired and dry.

The sun on the garden

Has dried every leaf.

The vines are all withered;

Gone summer’s feast.

The Queen Anne has faded,

Is no longer white.

All life waits in stillness

For coolness of night.

We watch for the promise

Of color on trees,

Of pears and of pumpkins

To come with the ease,

Of cooler and wetter

Oh, welcome relief

From the dog days of summer

The satin cerise

Of summer’s late sunsets

Those guarantee all

The geese winging southward

God sending us fall.

©Elece Hollis