I open the window with anticipation.

There I hear the birds last summer song,

For summer is done.

Crisp autumn air wafts into the room

Sweeping away with it

Summer’s dust which has settled in the nooks

And crannies,

Yet

Not on open books.

My mind is filled with wondrous thoughts of

Falling leaves and cooler mornings to come.

I look to my garden for one last flower

To which

I find none.