Indian Summer

Late afternoons full of gold

en sun streaming

warm breezes blowing

off the Marshlands carrying       

calls of birds and barks of dogs

Tree limbs waving, breaking

off the weakest leaves, foreshadowing

of what is to come

Ahead, an airplane drones

during evening runs

from the Base where so many come

to live and work and laugh

and love from afar

The hills, once green, are golden

deeply tanned after too much sun

like the sun-kissed children who

have returned to the playgrounds

I can hear them shouting and laughing

outside my window, home from

Lake Anywhere, Disneyland, road trips in minivans,

basking in late summer glory

faraway sunshine, days still longer

drinking in as much of summer

before she winds down to crisp

afternoons, early nights

damp earth and crackling fires

in fireplaces deep in the heart

of Home where they will sit and dream

of the Summer

behind them and Times to come.