End of Summer

END OF SUMMER

There were sights to be seen at the flaming end of summer

As we sped over the land like a flying scarf:

The kindled braziers of the mountain-ash

Swinging their wild greetings from tame door-yards;

Gypsy-dressed zinnias, spinsters in masquerade;

The tidy farmer, raking his first brush-fire,

Himself an angular shadow beside its supple aliveness;

Obliging cows, arranging themselves in pleasing groups

Over the stone-sprinkled meadows;

Sun-bleached spread of a hill

And sun-dyed tapestry of an apple-tree;

Obsequious sun himself, Summer's gifted servant ---

All these came running to the roadside

With mocking gestures of farewell.

~Jean Starr Untermeyer