The Turning

Hot summer days live in relaxation 

And a love for all things bright and fun.

It is hard to imagine them fading away into colder, shorter hours -

But then the turning comes.

A light dusting of rain; rolling, thunderous clouds; a fireplace's perfume.

Summer is usurped in one instant. 

No matter that following weeks regain much of Ceres' glory -

I am ready for crisp apple days and the smell of nutmeg.

The light has changed, the nights are colder. 

Autumn is coming - even here.

Swimming pool and tank tops

Make way for pumpkin patch and baking.

The leaves are still green,

Mostly. But they will turn. They will become

Gold, ruby, amber, topaz. Then nature will wear the crown

Her maker has fashioned.

So new things come, and old pass on.

To cling to an old good - to never rise to meet the new -

Is to age inwardly. To stop. To die.

"To turn, turn, will be our delight..."