The End Of Summer Poem by James Lee Jobe

The End Of Summer



A crow screams at me from the eave of the garage roof.
I wonder, does he carry the soul of the man that I slew?

The last quarter-moon of summer, a barn owl circles
the nude hay field, a mouse hides among broken stalks.

Summer stumbles to an end, an anxiousness blankets
the valley fields. The end is near. The wind is changing.

When the crow leaves, I will fly with him, the breeze in my face,
the treetops at my feet, the fields a blurry carpet far below.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Bill Fitzgerald 01 October 2006

Soulful and a little sad, will the summer return? Will the Crow? Will you? ?

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Joseph Daly 30 September 2006

A sort of despondency to this. In fact it become overwhelmingly moving by the third couplet. I was very taken with this piece. The lovely use of language is where the impact lies.

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