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The Last Warm Night
by Lady Barbara

It feels like this may well be it -
The very last warm evening.
If any year we knew for sure,
We'd relish and we'd cherish it.
It's like the last cicada's song
The last sight of a hummingbird -
You never know that it's the last
Until there are no more.

The air now has a fragrance
That the frost will take away.
There'll surely be a different scent
On some coming, single, odd, warm day.
But now, this evening, Autumn stands
Holding Summer by the hand,
The plants, they sit as still as I,
And every breath becomes a sigh.
The breeze grows ever cooler
As it strokes both leaves and hair.

Tomorrow we have much to do
To ready for the coming cold,
But now we sit, so still, serene,
While everything is still SO green,
The air is soft, the crickets sing
As this breeze runs its gentle fingers
Over everything.

If this is not the last warm night,
It really matters not.
If another comes along
At least I'll know that in THIS year
I relished and I cherished one.
I breathed the scents
And heard the songs,
And sat surrounded by my friends,
So silent and so green.
I'll remember this smell of evening air
When winter comes all grey and white,
Because I sat here, very still
On what may be the last warm night.
 
Sept 28th, 1999

 

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