The Last Of High Summer Poem by Leslie Philibert

a step-aside perspective
of less perfect petals
shaken by the thick air

steady and warm
a movement just behind the seen
slight despite the moving sun

that lights a brown carpet
Autumn`s foetal push
the head of Summer trapped

in the fermentation of sour-juiced apples
the barren hardness of small fruit
(late growth; givers failing to provide)

so that`s it then; close the door with care,
darken the light with linen,
stroke a face damp with warm rain.