Indian Summer

A last gasp.
A sighing of change on the tidal winds.
Fading colors, gorged with sea-salt memories.
Windows sealed up, boardwalk deserted.
Time moving on,
A hollowness rings in my steps.
I watch the living seasons and rhythms of life
as the season’s tired blooms hang limp.
Their beauty faded.
Only to live in memory,
recalled another day.
The sunset catches my eye.
Amber light, aflame on the water.
A full harvest moon, soon to appear.
The sun, a dying ember,
lowers to kiss the silver-capped waves.
Waves murmur a familiar melody,
offering up summer’s last song.
I turn to go,
these earth feet connected to the sand.