A slow-glowing firefly rests where the cottage red garage door meets the pebbled tan foundation.
It lights, labored, out of breath from a long summer winging warm night air.
Across the gravel, honeysuckle continues a thin late bloom. One must come so near for barely a hint of perfume that filled the entire yard merely weeks ago.
If you rush by either on your way out for the evening, you’ll miss two of summer’s highlights taking their final bow.
Let us ease into long sleeves, and blankets, and sleep, windows open as long as we can.
Most of us are awful at farewell. I aquiese to autumn one falling leaf at a time.