This is how our summer ends, then:
we go to the woods for
one last weekend.
The kids are wild,
full of energy and semi-hysterical
laughter, as if letting go
one final burst of energy
before school pens them in.
We hike and run into a moose,
her loud woofing at us a warning.
At night, the air has the sharp
tang of fires, and sleep grips
us like a drug.
Bacon and eggs in the morning,
one last walk,
and the drive back to the city,
to school, to fall, to darker, earlier mornings
and less freedom, fewer sleepovers.
The loss of summer is a heartache,
a wistfulness, a lump in the throat;
even as the crisp clean air of fall
and the sharpened pencils and
blank notebooks of new beginnings
draw us in.
Author: Keeley Milne
Editor: Travis May
Photo: Author’s own.