The poplars sigh

Beneath chill grey skies

Their leaves

Reach the duckweed 

In the meandering stream. 

The grasses sigh

As I weave my way through 

Their leaves 

Reach over my head

In the shimmering meadow

The swallows sigh

As they head south

Their flight

Carries them soon out of sight

Into the turbulent night

I sigh 

As the summer fades 

The night 

Arrives earlier now

As the sun heads south

And with it the warmth.