Why should it so surprise us? It comes on
each year - the way that summer changes, fades.
We notice first the early flowers gone,
and then the earlier creeping in of shades
of evening, cooler air, a sadder song,
it seems, of crickets spending out their mating calls.
New flowers bloom, those that belong
to later summer - we think of former falls
that arrive so slowly we scarce feel them come,
with harvests plumping, fading back to rot,
old pumpkins not brought in oozing gum,
and blazing summer days then quite forgot -
and noticing all this we are made bold
to focus on those things that don't grow old.
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