By Judith
Well, summer certainly has fled here in the Twin Cities. With highs only in the 60s and lows threatening frost, summer seems like a distant memory, even though, technically, summer won't leave for another week and a half. However, weather doesn't always heed the calendar and so today's poem is about the end of summer.
It's a short little ditty. Hope you enjoy.
Oh, the author? That'd be me.
Crickets
The happiest sound of summer deep
Is the cricket's evening song.
I listen and fall quick asleep
Serenaded all night long.
The saddest sound of summer late
Is the cricket in the night.
Too soon he's gone and winter's fate
Turns the world to silent white.
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