End of summer hush
Falls on the morning garden
Where the ground is damp with night rain.
Clouds sailor-roll in the turbulent sky,
Billows of pent up heat that August never shared.
Even the fussing of the blackbirds
Mutes to a sad soft sigh
For the soft times of summer are over
And the fat silly chicks have left the nest
Blundering their way in the world
Beneath the watchful eye of the cats
And mocked by the cold breath of the north wind
Gathering in the snowy wastes of winter.
Viv Drewa - The Owl Lady 