Dry Bones of Summer Days

Dry Bones of Summer Days

Death of Summer opens Coffin of Abundance to greet onset of Autumn.
Flowers lose fairest of blooms as austere breezes scatter provender ‘cross fields.
Sweat drips from brow of tired workers anxious now for longest of days to conclude.
They yearn to drink refreshing mugs of cider filled with piquant fruits of harvest.

Dwellers of the tomb are at peace, one with the earth, and the dark side of the moon.
Falling stars make garlands to drape ‘pon stones bathed in light of moon as season fades.
Leaves spin round and round as they curl, readied for their annual descent from tree.
Wild animals devour fattened bounty as they scout terrain for weak of game.

Dry bones rise up and shout “Amen” to pay homage to that once vibrant with life.
Chorus they “The living deems us brusque, yet we are here to watch summer’s demise,
And prove that what was once brimming with good tidings continues on in good faith.
Our vessels once spilled profit, yet we are not without that which nourishes gain.”

Let incense burn once more to ward off winter’s blanket of cold when Fall has passed,
And bells peal to announce good news that seed shall birth growth to enrich barren soil.
Ashes of demise shall rekindle and spark a season pregnant with new growth.
We, Dry Bones of Summer, laid to rest, shall rise in Spring’s Rite of Resurrection!”

Sheila Bowyer Kline
“My sun sets to rise again”-Robert Browning