'Tween Summer and Fall

Tween Summer and Fall

The trees are still clinging to their leaves,
saying “Let me savor the last of the light.”
“Don’t drop! Don’t drop!”

The cicadas have all died.
Leaving just a few stubborn moths
flittering around in the sun,

still cold from the previous night,
shaking the last of the morning dew.
It is in this moment of finality that I awaken,

my attention crisp,
as savored as the cool light
that spills through the open areas of the trees,

where the leaves have already taken their dance
to the ground, at my feet,
where I stand connected to the earth,

awake,
aware,
around.