Late Summer

Late Summer

Sunlight dances with the shadows on the backyard porch,

falls onto the old wooden bench in golden pools,

glows on my cheeks

and illuminates the faded pages of my book.

The scents of the garden

and a faint spicy hint of the approaching cold of autumn

linger in the air.

For now, not even the neighbor's radio can disturb

the soft song of the wind and the carol of the birds,

the lazy music of an August afternoon.