The sun’s heat on my arms lands just when fall’s Breeze blows it away, like summer’s spent leaves What is left of the spring, mockingbird calls, Holds on to summer though its end it perceives. We sit in shade. You knit, setting in sleeves; Too warm in the sun, still fall’s overtaking. Moving again too cool under the eaves I see you at twenty your future betaking. Time’s run us far, the days and years breaking Our bodies bely the youth that is there This side our solstice, sorrow and aching Turns slow into sweetness, plain into fair. Beauty has not faded, but grows more deeper and bright More precious and clearer as Indian Summer’s light.
© Randy Edwards 2016 Photo: Catherine Edwards #poetry #sonnet