Late Summer Rain

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“Today the softest, gentlest rain of all
Whispers in the wind of coming Fall,
Its promise of caressing, sunlit breeze,
With nights that pull us close before the freeze.
Now sparrows that worked hard all summer long
Steal little time from eating for their song;
They, too, know winter’s grasp will come again
And, better than we, know exactly when.
But first come weeks of golden Autumn sun
And time for vines to make their final run,
For butternuts to turn their lovely buff,
Beans, herbs, tomatoes, pumpkins–all enough
To store for colder days and drifts of snow
And show us sunlight’s warmth when cold winds blow.”

Jane M. Woodman

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