This is an older poem I came across while going through my old journals for material to use in my memoir. I wrote this in August of ’83 while sitting in a bus shelter waiting for the number 9.

Summer’s Almost Gone

August rains are cold
The sky is crying

Wind gusts blow me down
The sky is raging

I know why the skies all cry
They dream of love
On summer nights
Of the cool night breeze
Through emerald leaves
The moonlight swimms
And naked limbs of summer

But summer’s almost gone

–LE