The Last Rose of Summer.

Today is the equinox,

the first day of autumn.

From now on,

there will be no more fresh peaches,

no more sandal tan lines

on the tops of my feet,

no more mosquito bites

on the back of my legs

from lingering in the warm dusk.

For a few weeks it's been coming,

but I couldn't let summer

"go gentle into that good night."

Now, though, the alignment of the planets

has forced me to accept it.

So last night,

Genevieve and I created our own ritual

to bid farewell to summer.

I can accept these things better

when there's a formal

changing of the guard.

We put on long floral dresses

and walked the stream path at night,

gathering flowers and plants,

and weaving them into wreaths.

Holly,

chrysanthemum,

Russian olive,

lavender,

apples,

and the last roses of summer.

We sang hymns about nature,

and quoted poems and scriptures:

Nature's first green is gold, 

Her hardest hue to hold. 

Her early leafs a flower; 

But only so an hour. 

Then leaf subsides to leaf. 

So Eden sank to grief, 

So dawn goes down to day. 

Nothing gold can stay.

Today,

I woke up and it was autumn.

I was glad to see that it was raining.

I put on boots

and listened to the appropriate movement

of Vivaldi's Four Seasons

and ate oatmeal for breakfast.

Farewell, summer.

Until next year.