Friday, September 6, 2024

The Old Summer Gods

 


The eyes of the old Gods

of Summer are getting

sleepy with each shortened

hour of daylight,

diminished minute by minute,

day by day.

 

Their yawns are the winds,

coldly blowing through the

chilling Summer evenings,

as the crackle of Summer

bonfires set in and we get

that old sweater out of the car.

 

The Autumnal Gods,

are licking their lips as

they know their time is

coming soon, and they

stretch and reach up,

tinging the leaves gold and brown.

 

Each night, the Summer Gods

doze just a little more,

just a little longer,

each morning it’s harder to

get up and roll out of the light

Summer sheets of bed.

 

The trudge to the kitchen,

more laborious, more hungover,

with the festivals, parties, and Olympic

trials, now quickly in the past.

Summer Gods too fat on the

hedonism to care.

 

Summer Gods, fading tans

and blonde hair highlights,

bikinis and trunks nearly threadbare,

almost ready for next year,

and a return to the joys of

daily Bacchanalia.

 

While Autumn waits.