I suppose it was because the week was warm
and we were all pretending summer was still here.
Whatever it was, the wetlands shocked me.
Reeds that were green mere days ago
were as white as the bare limbs of the sycamores.
The pond was all but gone, revealing the seaweed
that soon would turn cranberry red, just in time
for the coming holidays. The water fowl and blackbirds
were gone now, and the crickets and frogs.
But above the rise behind the pond, a freight train
rumbled past, providing sound to break the silence.
The seasons pass so swiftly. Just yesterday you
were still here, smiling into my eyes, saying
I love you as you said goodbye. And now,
you, too, are gone. At least from my sight.
In my heart, you are here, every bit as tangible
as summer’s song, and like summer, forever
warm and welcome, and shining with light.