Time ticks away the final hours of summer
The sun shifts. The heat persists. Stroke after stoke, thoughts of classes, lessons and meetings erase the lingering softness of the season,
Vistas of Buzzard's Bay with rarely seen family,
Walks on the crunchy, shelled beaches of Wings Neck,
Happily braving the ocean winds on a Chappequiot island stroll to the Family Boathouse,
the same grey-shingled house where my mother would summer with her cousins as a child in the 30s
I wrap myself in the fraying shawl of summer comforts
against the impending cold of schedules and obligations
I breathe the thinning air of sun-soaked Cape beach days,
dripping coconut popsicles from the ice cream truck
Central Park picnic on a sultry afternoon.
Grown sons
New friends
Dogs and toddlers running mindlessly on the green slopes,
oblivious to anything but the pure joy of movement
Lamplights flickering at dusk
New York skyline silhouettes at sunset
July fading.
