Kevin McKinney

Kevin McKinney Poems

Late summer, evening at the seashore. Middle of the last unofficial week of summer. Labor Day fast approaching. Got to slow things down. Going too fast.

Ah, yeah, it's still summer. Still time to lotion up with Coppertone. Relax on the beach. Breath in the sea salt air, absorb the warmth of the sun while ocean waves crash and roar along the damp sandy shore.
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The Best Poem Of Kevin McKinney

Sound Of Autumn Approaching

Late summer, evening at the seashore. Middle of the last unofficial week of summer. Labor Day fast approaching. Got to slow things down. Going too fast.

Ah, yeah, it's still summer. Still time to lotion up with Coppertone. Relax on the beach. Breath in the sea salt air, absorb the warmth of the sun while ocean waves crash and roar along the damp sandy shore.

Distant shouts of joy from small children at water's edge precariously nudge, lift your soul, transport your spirit higher. Soft, wind-strewn puffy clouds above beckon. Sweet peace prevails, lingers.

Yeah, there's still time. Sun is still shining. On this late summer day in the middle of the week - Wednesday - in the unofficial last week of summer.

Waiting for a break in traffic to turn from the boatyard onto the narrow one-way street, when a sweet, gentle breeze blows. Accompanying this refreshing breath of late summer is a distantly familiar, faint scraping sound. Captures me. Demands my full, undivided attention.

The scattered, brown dry leaves can't help but go along. Early bloomers, fully formed into forever expressive shapes skip along the street's edge, the gutter, up against the clean, white cement curb, heading west. West for the winter? Already?

It's the middle of the last week of a legendarily long, hot summer, and already there are signs of autumn fast approaching. Hard to conceive. After such a relentlessly oppressive summer. And in the wake of a tremendously powerful and enduring thunderstorm just days ago.

Hints of autumn crispness already, so readily beckon. Shouldn't there be a period of cooling down first? A few weeks of pleasantly comfortable weather before any hints of the precursor of winter are visible?

It's Wednesday. The middle of the week. August 29,2012. In the last unofficial week of summer. This is when I heard that distant, but familiar sound of change coming. That pleasant, light, breezy, skittering in the wind. Yeah. That soothing sound. Right? A touch of sadness tugs. A reflective hope settles. Inspiration awakens. Just a sneak preview. It's still summer.

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