As we drink up the
last drop of Summer
it taste sweeter than the first.
Those days filled with skin
bare to the sun and kisses
stolen under red bud’s branches.
Time fermented with honey and wine
on green lawns and checked table clothes
create the nectar we will crave
all Winter long.
Hummingbird on the branches of the red bud tree outside my kitchen window this last Tuesday.
What does Summer taste like to you?
Light Words 
I have yellow roses and there is something quite poignant about the last rose of summer.
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We have a few Cecile Brunners that always bravely come out in September, too poignant is a good word for these brave souls 🙂
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No not at all after the passing of an exact 10 years since I failed to find you and remained here searching in other ways I thought September could send better wishes, and they’ve stuck with things on this account. Too poignant? Never!
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I was just looking at my last blooms…a few roses…a few hostas… a few marigolds…kinda sad…
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marigold out here we save for Day of The Dead Celebrations. The last color in the garden, sigh 😉
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Lovely poem and an amazing photo!
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Lynn Your words mean a great deal, thanks. Carol
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