Indian summer

 This is an Indian summercool mornings brightening toburning afternoons where the grasscrackles underfoot & the sky’s high and clearsporting a huge full moon. I drink the last of the summer winewhile you remember what you forgot to dohow you left me high & dry with the day trippersburnt like pork & the children tetchyfrom sugar. Tonight I’m thinking of youI watch the horizon bending to the curve of this planetall of it sky washed blue,twisting in countless universe’s cradle& our love seems such a small to do hardly more than swallow’s flutteror a cloud wisp’s trailat the end of summer.