Wasp's sting

Last of the summer skiestrick us into reposesleepy wasps sting indeterminatelyleaves fall like ash cloudscovering everything.Summer waves goodbyeI murmur imagestry to describe a life in random phrasemoon bays governments toppleteeth drawn knives sharpened.Here in England’s fallow fieldshusk of corn scrapes stony groundsky high and wide with summer songautumn glowers from over the walland we pretend nothing’s happened.