The last breath of summer

Still, the sun spills summer
through the muslin curtains
onto hardwood floors,
still, I wear no shoes
and with a glass of wine, I rest,
relaxing to the weary
whisper of the wickerwork,
to slumber still.
as autumn calmly cools
my skin to sleep.

Cornflowers in a ray of sunshine
Konstantin Yuon

Today Lisa hosts the Quadrille at dVerse, and to honor Labor Day, the word is work. I have hidden it a bit in my poem, but it should be easy to find.

September 5, 20222.

26 responses to “The last breath of summer

  1. There is that sense of the season’s end drawing near, and in the contentment, a certain sadness is found, perhaps in the unsaid but felt contemplation, and the aged hardwood floor.

  2. You had me at “the weary whisper of the wickerwork”. Here the leaves have not changed color yet. It is still in the high 80’s. October brings the chill and the colors.

  3. What a lovely picture of a vase of cornflowers to illustrate your poem, Björn! Cornflowers have such a gorgeous shade of blue. I love the image you paint here with your words, especially the sun spilling summer ‘through the muslin curtains / onto hardwood floors’ and the alliterative ‘whisper of the wickerwork’ – very comforting – and the calm acceptance of the changing of the season.

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