As The Season Ends


as the season ends

Late summer wind, she breathes casting

a spell of gratitude:


The rice has grown

long and rich as a young bride’s hair,


the net has captured

many fish armored in blue or silver,


and fog has wrapped its sash

around the black pine yearning

to wear the breath of gods and ancestors.


Late summer wind, she leaves lighting

the sweet tinder in our lungs;

and we kindle song.



  1. A song for summer leaving or autumn on the way, your gentle wind kindles a song in me, too. Thank you for this visual treat on a Sunday afternoon.


  2. Wendy,

    This poem is another grand experience for the reader, created by your pen.
    It puts me right there, on the cusp of summer and autumn…that sense of
    anticipation, that sense of excitement. Your poem is as grand as the season

    Thank you !



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