The emptying of the summer
and the wind is blowing strong,
And the last hours of the sun
will soon be lost and gone,
And the days of gentle blowing
and the night sieve of sand,
Blown softly to the heavens
leaving nothing in the hand,
As lips seal an envelope
the completion of a thought,
Written down, signed and sealed,
and then forever dropped,
So the scent of salted water
is eclipsed by the air,
Summer’s visage softens
and the magic disappears.
s.k. lindeman