The beauty
of high summer
just past its apogee.
Iron weed, bull thistle,
chicory, goldenrod.
Fields mown earlier,
left alone since,
restore themselves
to abundant,
tenacious life.
This moment explodes,
ripe and fecund,
warm and verdant,
green and glowing.
Yet, even now,
autumn whispers
its soft hello
as winter,
just behind,
looks upon the scene,
patiently waiting.
Seasons upon seasons,
change and renewal,
never ending.
-mce
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