Farewell to Summer

Rain hung in the air the whole morning,
like lights dangling from the ceiling of
a dancing hall, as musicians packed their instruments,
and the last dancers started to leave. 

The lights dimmed, and rain began to fall softly,
like a curtain over an empty podium,
large droplets rolling in the misty air,
still warm and fragrant, only no longer to
dance or kiss under,
but to seek shelter. 

Walking on the west side of the road,
I watched people closing their windows,
gathering their washing in,
hurrying their children inside. 

Some dawns may still dazzle with sunshine,
some dusks soften with warmth,
their beauty equal only to their brevity. 

I did not hurry.
I longed for the smell of dampened earth,
flowers and grass,
to permeate my nostrils, my skin, my eye sockets, curious
tubes inside my ears, the cavity of my mouth,
to lie in the embrace of a moist and heavy
garden, lulled into sleep by whispers,
sashaying of leaves, caresses of a gentle breeze,
my hair tangled with petals and smeared
with the blood of small insects.

As I reached home, evening tiptoed in and
the air stiffened with cold.
That night I dreamed of running under the
cornflower skies of my youth.