Indian Summer

As I sit on the step in the hot sun,
It’s hard to believe it’s September
Until I suddenly remember

Another Indian summer
When I rode along an empty lane,
Warm after many days of rain.

A caged bird finally freed,
I soared through the scented air,
Not ready for winter despair.

And now, under a jangling wind chime,
I’m glad that autumn’s been postponed,
Glad that more sunshine has been loaned:

However short the term,
However long the lease has left to run,
I’m grateful for this late sun.

The bees busy among the pots
Of geranium, clematis and pine,
I sip sunlight as I would a fine wine,

Drunk with a sumptuous meal
Long waited for, with candles on the table,
And summer a half-remembered fable.

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