The slightest chill still hangs in the air,
the only reminder of the season now gone.
Ducklings, fluffy and hopeful, waddle
from the stream across the park
to the shade of the overhanging tree.
A bird flies in sharp, precise movements
against the backdrop of a halcyon sky,
and a yellow flower begins to bloom
in a terracotta pot on my window sill.
Leaves dance delicately, flourishing
in the branches of an old oak, casting
a mixture of shadow and light across
blades of rolling grass
that grow more vibrant
as the days whirl by…