Our Summer Novel

Fall comes
And summer ends
It is no longer the burning secret
Our element of surprise
We now know
The wavering stories of our summer
When the river ran wild like the bare soles of our feet
And the bare souls of our bodies
Ready to soak up the words of those days

Yes, the winds are growing cold
The leaves are whimsical shade-changing
Umbrellas
And here we are
Standing beneath them
And the stories we lived
In those earthy, hot summer months
When the outdoors were our playgrounds
Are either stories think of,
Or trash in the crinkling leaves of autumn